The Other Side of the Table: Six Weeks in Vegas
by Sunset
Summary: A childhood friend of Sara’s enters the CSI’s world and falls for Nick.
1. Chapter One

**The Other Side of the Table: **

**Six Weeks in Las Vegas**

**Week One**

**Friday / Saturday **

Gil Grissom paused a moment just outside the open door and listened to his team's bantering. Their teasing, while some might call it unprofessional, was simultaneously the cause and a direct result of just how good a team they were. 

"Bite me." The familiar teasing tone of Catherine Willows voice rang out a little louder above the others and the room erupted in laughter and cat calls, blocking out the response from who ever it was Catherine had been speaking to.

A small smile spread over Gils face as he shook his head slowly and walked into the room.

"Ok." He called out, quieting his team. Making his way to the head of the table, he pulled out a yellow plastic chair with an audible squeak, and placed his left foot into the seat. Resting his clipboard on his bent knee, he began to make the assignments for the night.

"Warrick, Catherine, B&E 719 Wood Alder." Warrick Brown gave a shot nod of acknowledgement, his blue eyes, out of place and yet right at home against his dark skin, glided over to Catherine. Gil slid the case file over the surface of the table; Catherine stopping it just before it slid completely off the side. "Nick and Greg, you're with me, DB at The Palace Apartments." Out of the corner of his eye, Grissom saw the two men touch closed fists in a camaraderie gesture that wasn't exactly his own style, but was still glad to see. Glancing up, his eyes found Sara Sidle sitting opposite him at the other end of the table. "Sara, you're still working on your hold up from this morning, right?"

Sara nodded, trying to ignore the murmured teasing of "Hold over hold up" from Greg Sanders sitting at her right, and just out of arms reach. She shot him a look, instantly silencing him. Returning her gaze back to their boss, Sara lifted her chin, "911 came in at 5 this morning, no fatalities, or injuries of any kind, $25 taken from the register." She was about to go on, listing the facts of the case, and her reasons for not having it solved yet, when Gil cut her off.

"It's ok, Sara." He held up his hand, looking somewhat like an Indian in a movie western from the 50's. "Not every case has to be, or even _can_ be solved the same night."

Nick Stokes, his arms crossed over his broad chest, dipped his head to hide the grin spreading over his matinee idol features. He too could have been taken from a 1950's movie.

Sara saw his smile and narrowed her eyes, burrowing her stare into the side of his head. Nick felt her eyes on him and avoided making eye contact when he raised his head a moment later after Grissom said a final "Ok" breaking up the meeting.

Steel chair legs scraped against the floor, courses of action and routes to crime scenes began to be talked through, the room suddenly becoming louder than it had been before Grissom first walked in. Warrick and Catherine were first to the door when their progress came to a halt with the arrival of a curvy red head in the doorway. She wore jeans, a purple and blue flannel shirt and hiking boots.

A wash of silence swept the room, greeting the new comer, and she brought her hands together in front of her, twisting her fingers in an unconscious response to suddenly being the center of attention.

"Can we help you?" Grissom asked, taking his foot off the chair.

"Rai, hi." Sara stood, answering Gil's question.

"Hey Sara." The red head in the doorway answered, making her way into the room and over to where her friend stood.

"Gris, this is my friend Rai Cross."

"Gil Grissom." He introduced himself, extending his hand. Rai adjusted her purse, moving it onto her left shoulder and shook the offered hand; her lips broke out into a knowing smile.

"Very nice to meet you Mr. Grissom." She glanced over her shoulder toward Sara then back to Gil, smile growing even wider. "I've heard a lot about you." She turned toward the rest of the group, who were now all by the doorway watching in somewhat stunned silence. Sara never talked about friends, never really spoke about her personal life at all, and since she was such a workaholic, they had all assumed they were her only friends.

"Catherine Willows." The strawberry blonde raised her hand slightly in introduction.

Warrick was next to offer his name and hand. Rai took it, gazing into his eyes. "Sara told me you had amazing eyes, but she didn't do them justice." Sara closed her own eyes, a pained expression on her face. Warrick blushed and rubbed his forehead.

Nick took a step forward, parting from the crowd of his co-workers. "Nick Stokes. Good to meet a friend of Sara's." His voice slipped deeper into his native Texan accent. He too extended his hand.

"_You're_ Nick?" Rai's voice raised a decimal in disbelief. She turned quickly toward Sara, her green eyes wide; astonishment evident on her features.

Sara spoke up before her friend could embarrass her further. "I'm dog sitting for Rai this weekend, she's just dropping off her key." She explained to no one in particular, her words were quick, tumbling over themselves.

"Well, nice to meet you." Catherine offered, sensing Sara's desperation for an empty room. She tugged at Warrick's jacket sleeve. "Come on, we've got to get to that B&E." Warrick nodded slowly, eyes still on Sara and Rai as he followed Catherine out the door.

"We've got to be going too." Gil smiled at Rai. "Greg, Nick. Come along boys." Grissom waggled a finger as he walked out of the room.

Unusually shy, Greg simply smiled and quickly glanced away from Rai's eye contact, shuffling out of the room, Nick a step behind him.

On the other side of the door, Nick took the position that, unbeknownst to him, Grissom had held just a few minutes before, listening to the two girls left alone in the room.

"_Why_ didn't you tell me Nick was so cute?" Rai playfully demanded turning fully to Sara. In the hall, Nick smiled.

"Because he's not." Sara answered simply. Shaking his head, still smiling, Nick headed to the locker room. He would have to grill Sara about her friend later, after the scene at the apartment complex.

Rai grinned at Sara's answer. "And your Mr. Grissom..." She whispered conspiratorially. Sara cut her off.

"Shhh." She glanced through the open door, relieved to see an empty hall. Sighing deeply she finally allowed herself a small smile.

"Ok, I'll stop." Rai hoped up, sitting herself down on the tabletop and held out her hand, a key ring looped over her index finer, two keys dangled down. "You remember where his food and leash are?"

"Yeah, sure." Sara took the keys and wedged them into her jeans pocket.

Rai slid off the table, "I'm gonna get going then. They say it might rain, so I'll call you if I come back early." She pulled Sara into a hug. "Thanks for doing this."

"Ok" Sara said simply her chin resting momentarily on Rai's shoulder before she broke the hug.

Rai pulled her purse onto her shoulder and began to walk out. At the doorway she stopped and turned, balancing herself on the frame. "And he is _so_ cute." She whispered, turning and slipping down the hall before Sara had a chance to reply.


	2. Chapter Two

Grissom threaded his way through the apartment complex breezeway. Cops and curious neighbors dressed in various forms of sleeping gear lined the edges. One of the women wore a thick faded pink robe that she clutched at the base of her throat, despite the heat, bashful in the presence of so many strangers. Nick and Greg followed, each carrying their own field kit.

Grissom stopped just outside the closed front door of the victim's apartment. He exchanged a few words with the officer placed there to guard the door, and when Nick and Greg caught up, Gil's hand was on the knob, with a glance over his shoulder, he opened the door and walked in.

Even in the darkness, the shape and rooms of the apartment could be made out. Built in the form of a capital L, the living room and kitchen were in the short leg, and, just inside the front door, they found themselves standing in the living room.

The only light on in the apartment came from the longer leg of the L, down what was probably a hall and from the rapid flickering and slight changes of color, Nick could tell the light came from a TV, in what he guessed was the bedroom. The three of them stood in the entrance niche for a moment, quiet after Grissom's instruction to Greg to shut the door behind them.

"What do you see Greg?" Gil asked, his voice not quite a whisper.

"Not much." Greg answered sarcastically. "Why can't we ever turn on the lights?"

Grissom took a breath. "I like to see the scene as the killer left it" he explained patiently.

Greg, behind him, and in the dark, mouthed 'Oh' as his only reply.

"Well?" Grissom asked.

"Well what?"

Nick closed his eyes in exasperation. "What do you see Greg-o?"

This time, Greg's 'Oh' was out loud. He shone his flashlight taking in as much of the room as he could in the thin steam of illumination. "Wine glasses, but no bottle in sight." Greg continued to look around the room, seeing nothing out of place. "Looks like a typical women's apartment to me."

"Yeah? And how many women's apartments have you actually seen?" Nick asked teasing.

"The carpet Greg" Grissom interrupted, returning the tone to professional. "What about the carpet?"

All three flashlights shone on the floor, circles of light moved in a back and forth motion.

"Looks like she just vacuumed." Greg answered.

"Or the perp did." Nick added.

"Make sure we take the vacuum with us." Grissom told both of them.

"Would you gentlemen care to see the body?" Captain Jim Brass, LVPD, stepped out from what Nick had guessed was the bedroom, his form blocking the light from the flickering TV.

"Coroner pronounce?" Grissom asked.

"Just missed him."

Gil gave one short nod and headed toward the bedroom.

"Hit the light, would ya Jim?" Gil asked. All four men squinted in the sudden brightness of the overhead light.

"Meet Jan Taylor." Brass said.

The floor was scattered with two or three day's worth of abandoned clothes. She was naked, and laid out on the foot of the bed, horizontally. Her arms bent at the elbow, hands rested on the mattress by her ears, legs at awkward angles. The plug to her alarm clock nestled near her left ear, the cord wrapped around her throat. The clock itself hung off the edge of the bed.

Gil twitched his head to the left, and angled it down a few degrees.

"What'd you see boss?" Nick asked, observing the familiar head movement.

"What's she lying on?"

A flash of red fabric spilled out from underneath the woman's body, the bright color a direct contract to the white sheet. Snapping on his gloves, Nick moved over to the bed, crouching at the victim's feet, and fingered the material. "Dress. Skirt maybe."

Grissom set his field kit down, opening it to pull out his own pair of gloves. "Greg" he glanced over his shoulder to the training criminalist, "check the bathroom. Take photos first, dust for prints, and look for anything out of place." Greg nodded before turning and walking out of the room.

Nick had moved from his crouched position at her feet, and now stood bent over the victim, his face inches from hers. "Strangled" he said, examining the electrical cord imbedded in her neck.

Brass rolled his eyes. "Really Sherlock? Gee, so glad you're here." He raised his eyebrows when Nick glanced over at him.

"Nicky, check the sheets." Grissom interrupted before the banter could escalate.

Using the ALS, Alternative Light Source, a colored flashlight type tool that makes invisible stains detectable, Nick methodically ran the light over the sheets, stopping every so often to tweeze up a stray hair, placing each one in it's own small envelope. Her purse lay on its side, half on her pillow, he bagged it too. "Found some hairs, short and red, may all be hers."

Grissom, bending over the body, didn't answer.

Nick shook his head at Grissom's lack of an answer. Someone else might have thought it a rebuff, or would have repeated themselves assuming they hadn't been heard, but Nick had learned long ago his boss had heard him, he just didn't have anything to say in answer. Stretching his back, he made his way into the bedroom closet. "She lived alone" he called out into the room, noting there were no men's clothes.

"No ring on her finger" Grissom answered from the bedroom. Poking through a cardboard box he found on the closet shelf, Nick heard the steel thumping of the ME's gurney, and abandoning the box, walked back into the bedroom in time to see the attendants lifting the body and putting her gently down onto the gurney.

From his position at the foot of the bed, Grissom watched reverently as they rolled her out of the bedroom. Once they were out of sight, he turned his attention to what was now evidently a dress laid out on the bed.

Nick was still holding his ALS in his hand, and he repeated the same actions on the newly empty end of the bed. While Nick worked, Grissom left the bedroom and walked down the short hall and into the kitchen.

It was clean, and neater than his own, he admitted to himself. A white trash bag sat in the corner, tied at the top in a double knot. He checked cabinets, the fridge, and the dishwasher, finding nothing unusual. Opening the cabinet under the sink, the odor of wine immediately hit him. He pulled out the blue plastic can and peering inside, found several pieces in varying sizes of what was probably once a wine bottle and numerous paper towels stained with deep red purple splotches. Grissom bagged the contents.

"Gil" Brass called from the living room. He had turned on a light, and Grissom could now see a well appointed, if smallish, living room. A couch and armchair, both a matching dark blue, faced the television. The two wine glasses Greg had observed earlier were set on the coffee table. Greg was right, there was no bottle with them, but at least he knew where it was. Gil ticked his head to the right. "What?" Brass asked mildly amused at the look on the criminalist's face.

"I think she might have had a date." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the bedroom. "Red dress laid out like she was about to put it on, wine glasses sitting at the ready." He paused a moment, thinking. "Who found her?"

"Co-worker at the casino, came over after the shift ended, said Jan had left her eyeglasses, he came over to return them." He walked over to the front door. "Lemme go ask if the vic mentioned having a date."

Greg stepped out of the hallway at that same moment. "Found a few useable prints, but mostly smudges. The shower walls are wet, like she showered before she died."

Or the perp did, Grissom thought to himself.

"Or I thought, maybe the killer showered to remove any trace," Greg went on "so I swabbed the drain. I did find these." He held up a small clear plastic bag. Grissom bent to take a closer look. Inside were two small blue fibers.

"Where'd you find them?" Grissom asked.

"Toilet handle. I photographed it before I collected them" he answered before Grissom could ask the question. Grissom gave him a small smile of approval.

Nick walked out, setting his field kit down at his feet. "Bagged the dress. Her bra and panties were tangled in the sheets" he slightly lifted his arms, indicating five brown paper bags, three in one hand, and two in the other.

Grissom nodded acknowledgement. "Greg, you wanna call it?"

Greg looked from Gil to Nick and back again. "What? Are we done?"

Grissom suppressed a sigh and glanced at Nick, giving him the go-ahead with his eyes.

"Well" Nick began "I'm thinking she had a date" Grissom twitched a smile, but allowed Nick to continue. "Dress laid out on the bed..."

_Stepping through her apartment door, she kicks her shoes off even before she closes the door behind her. Grateful to be home, she sighs deeply and rolls her neck as she walks the short distance to her bedroom. Dumping her purse on the bed, she pulls her sweater off and tosses it onto the floor. Slipping across the hall into the bathroom, she pees then turns on the shower. Back in the bedroom, she steppes out of her skirt and pantyhose in one motion, leaving them where they fall at her feet. In her closet, she pulls her new red dress off its hanger, tugging the price tags off. Tossing the dress on to her bed, she pads in to the kitchen to throw the tags in the trash. The bag is full, and she admonishes herself for not having taken it out that morning. Pulling the liner out of the can, she ties the bag shut and sets it in the corner of the kitchen. The box of liners sitting next to the can is empty; 'Shit' she mumbles and shoves the can back to its place underneath the sink, banging the cabinet door closed. Remembering the shower, she heads into the bathroom, and removing her underwear and watch, she steps in letting the hot water trickle down her back. _

_After, she dries off; she puts on her panties back on and blow-dries her hair. A few minutes later, her hair and body now dry, she starts to put on her makeup when a knock on her front door makes her grab her watch realizing how late she's running. 'Shit' she mumbles again as she slips into her robe and quickly looks at herself in the mirror before rushing off to answer the door._

_"Hi" she says brightly opening the door wide and letting him in, she realizes she didn't cinch the robe with its tie and she clutches it closed just below her breasts._

_"Am I early?" he asks, his brow furrowing._

_"Nope, I'll just be another few minutes, have a seat, make yourself at home." She turns to head back to her bedroom when she feels him behind her, the crook of his arm is around her neck, he's pushing her into the bedroom, and her brain won't let her understand what's happening. He tares the robe off her and pushes her onto the foot of the bed. With one hand on her throat he rips her panties off of her. Everything is happening in slow motion to her, and it feels like eternity before her terror breaks and she opens her mouth to scream. He stifles her with his free hand._

_"You have to be quiet," he says in a voice that she is surprised to find is so calm. "Be quiet, and you'll be alright." He lets his words absorb. "Understand?" She nods, tears filling her eyes. "Good" he says and cautiously takes his hand from her mouth. They stare at each other, and he keeps staring as he reaches down to undo his fly, one hand still on her throat. Her tears spill over and it's hard to breathe, his grip on her neck is so tight._

"After he was done, he ripped the clock radio from the wall and strangled her with the cord." Nick finished his monologue.

The air around them had grown heavy during the recount, and Nick took a moment to breath and reallocate himself.

Grissom nodded in agreement, "But you forgot one thing."

"What's that?" Nick asked, his eyes narrowing.

Gil held up the two evidence bags that contained the broken wine bottle and paper towels he'd found in the trash. The glass pieces clinked against each other. "I found the wine."

"Well, there wasn't any blood on the vic or the bed, he didn't hit her with it, how'd it get broken?"

"Maybe he dropped it when he went after her." Greg chimed in.

"And he cleaned up after himself? With a dead body in the next room?" Nick asked skeptically. Greg shrugged in answer.

"Who said he brought it?" Gil asked. Both of the other men looked at him. "That's why I bagged it."


	3. Chapter Three

Nick stared at the substances in front of him; distaste flickered in his eyes. Glancing behind him, he grabbed the nearest chair, pulled it up and sat, wanting to be a little more comfortable as he scrutinized the bits and pieces. His knee apart, he rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned further in. The set of his jaw, and the line of his back would tell any passerby that he was intent on the task at hand, to find the elusive object of his quest.

"Trying to cool off the whole break room?" Warrick asked walking in finding Nick sitting in front of the open fridge.

"I'm trying to find something decent to eat." Nick's voice echoed a little from inside the refrigerator.

"Ping's decent enough for you?" Warrick asked tossing a brown paper bag on to the tabletop.

Nick pulled his head out, and whipped around. "Chinese? You are the _man_!"

Nick stood and grabbed paper plates from the stack on top the microwave while Warrick unpacked the bag. "I was expecting everyone else, 's why I bought so much."

"Griss is at PD with Brass," he looked at his watch "I'm guessing he should be back any minute now and Sara's got a suspect on her gas station in interrogation and Catherine...." Nick paused a moment then shrugged.

"Cath's dropping off trace we found at our B&E." Warrick finished for him as he sat down in the chair Sara had occupied earlier, at the end of the table.

"Quit raining yet?" Nick asked.

Warrick shook his head and shoveled a fork full of rice into his mouth.

"Coming down like cats and dogs" a voice chimed in from the doorway. Both men looked up to find Sara's friend Rai leaning against the door jam, arms folded across her chest, her knee bent and crossed over the other foot, the tip of her hiking boot touching the floor. "Hi" she greeted, smiling brightly. "My trip got canceled, I just wanted to tell Sara thanks anyway."

"She's with a sus...she's at the police department." Nick caught himself. "Come on in, you can wait for her here." Ever the southern gentlemen he stood as she detached herself from the doorway and moved toward the table. Warrick looked up at him from his seat and rolled his eyes.

"Thanks" her smile grew just a bit brighter, as did Nicks.

Rai pulled out a chair closest to the door, opposite Nick. Warrick noticed the exchange and shook his head. "Have you eaten? We've got plenty" he asked Rai as she put her purse down on the floor next to her.

"I'm starved. Thanks." Reaching to the back of her head, she pulled out an elastic band, freeing her hair from its bounds. Running her hands through it, shaking out the long curls, she couldn't help but notice she'd gotten Nicks attention. She hadn't exactly meant to, but on the other hand, she didn't mind a bit.

Nick cleared his throat and handed her a plate, pushing a couple of the cardboard containers toward her. "Rai's an unusual name for a girl."

She smiled and spooned some sweet and sour onto her plate. Nodding in agreement, she explained, "My parents were hippies. My name is actually Rainbow." She looked up to find both men staring at her. "Yeah, I know. It is kind of silly. But it could have been worse. My mom wanted to name me Butterfly."

"Then you would have gone through life as Butt." Warrick observed. Nick gave him a sideways look, but Rai laughed.

"Hippies, huh?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah, honest to God hippies. So were Sara's parents, they were all friends, she and I grew up together." She forked a piece of chicken into her mouth.

"And your trip?" Nick asked, making conversation.

"I _was _going to go hiking in the mountains, but the rain stopped me short."

"They've only been predicting rain all week." Hodges walked into the room. Passing by them, he sniffed the food laid out on the table, made a face and continued on to the fridge. "Especially in the mountains" he continued, his tone snotty and somewhat reprimanding. "It'd be stupid to plan a hike for this weekend."

Gil walked in. "Hi" he greeted Rai. Turning his attention to the lab tech, he continued "My trace fibers?"

"They're running through now. Definitely cotton" Hodges answered, his tone suddenly bright and cheerful. "By the way, did you know in the 5th century cotton fabrics were unknown or quite uncommon in Europe it may be inferred from Herodotus mention of the cotton clothing of the Indians. Ultimately the cotton industry was imported into Europe..."

Grissom cut him off with the slightly confused slightly annoyed look he'd perfected. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I'll go check your DNA." Hodges said sheepishly and dashed out of the room.

"That had to be Hodges." Rai said to no one in particular.

Warrick stopped, mid chew. Nick's fork hung half way up to his mouth. Grissom turned. They all stared at her. "How'd you know that?" Nick asked.

"Well...." Rai grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. "From Sara talking about all of you, I've figured that there are only two jerks here, Ecklie and Hodges. Since it's...." she looked at her watch "after midnight; it's to late for Ecklie to be here, and" she used her fork to point at the hallway Hodges just walked down "his whole demeanor; his tone of voice, body language, changed when Mr. Grissom walked in." She looked toward Gil as he sat down at the end of the oblong table, opposite Warrick, fascinated. "He went from jerk to suck up in nothin' flat. From what Sara says, Hodges is a huge suck up, hence, that was Hodges." She finished her explanation and took a bite of rice.

The men exchanged impressed glances. "You want a job?" Gil finally asked. Rai smiled and crinkled her nose.

"Thanks, but I can't stand the sight of blood."

"What blood?" Sara asked walking in and quickly stopping short, stunned to find Rai sitting there with her boss and co-workers.

Rai glanced over her shoulder to Sara. "Relax, I didn't give away any of your deep dark secrets."

Snapping out of her shock, Sara protested, "I don't have any secrets, deep or otherwise." She sat down in between Rai and Grissom reaching for a plate and the steamed veggies. "The rains bring you back in?" Rai nodded her answer, her mouth full.

"Your robbery suspect?" Gil asked taking a plate and the carton of beef and broccoli.

"Confessed almost the minute he sat down in the interrogation room. O'Reilly didn't even break a sweat," Sara said simply, referring to the big sergeant the CSI's worked with often.

"Good, you can work with Nick on the ..." Gil stopped speaking and glanced at Rai.

"Ok, I get the hint. Civilian in the room." Her tone was light, teasing. "Thanks anyway Sar. I'll talk to ya tomorrow." She stood and pulled her purse on to her shoulder, making eye contact with each of the CSI's. "Good to meet you all. Now I can put a face to Sara's stories." She waggled her fingers in a wave goodbye, and when Nick stood up out of politeness, she smiled, cast her eyes down then quickly back up, looking at him through her lashes. "Bye" she almost whispered.

"Bye Rai," Sara called, staring at Nick. After Rai had left the room she added, still looking at Nick, "you never stand for me."

Nick smiled a dazzling smile. "Jealous?"

"Sara" Grissom interrupted "We've got a DB down with Doc Robinson, probable rape victim, I need you to get down there and get the report."

Still standing, Nick grabbed his pager, unclipping it from his belt and brought it up, staring at the screen. "Gotta run," he said simply before hurrying out of the room.

Warrick watched his friend exit, and snorted quietly to himself before taking Nick's abandoned plate and scrapping what was left onto his own.

Ten minutes later, dinner finished, Warrick left Sara and Grissom in the break room, still discussing the body from the apartment. Headed toward the layout room, he passed Nick in the hall. "Taking Rai out?" he asked. Nick stopped short.

"Yeah." A confused look came over his face. "How'd you know?"

"Your pager didn't go off man." Warrick answered simply.


	4. Chapter Four

Dawn broke in pink and orange thin streaks that stretched though the neon haloed night sky then spread, growing wider until they met, joining at the edges, chasing the darkness to the other side of the world. Catherine and Warrick had left an hour before, Catherine hurrying home to her daughter Lindsay, now an almost teenager who'd lately become angry and hostile. Catherine secretly longed for the days of pancake breakfasts and cartoon marathons.

On her way to the locker room, Sara passed the closed door of Grissom's office. Shaking off her urge to knock, she continued on, and after a moments thought, pulled out her cell phone, dialing as she passed through the locker room double doors. Rai answered on the third ring. "I woke you up." Sara said into the phone.

"No. Actually, I got up about ten minutes ago, you got me out of the shower."

"Wanna grab some breakfast?" Sara asked, holding her phone in her right hand, she shrugged her left arm out of her jacket.

"I wish I could, but Nicks coming over."

"Nick who?" Sara stopped, her jacket hanging half off.

Rai laughed. "Come on, he's cute, polite, and I like that Texas drawl thing he's got going on."

Sara was speechless, but she hadn't heard that tone in her friends voice for quite a while. After a moment, she realized the only thing she was jealous about was Rai's ability to open herself up. Rai had always been able to talk to anyone about anything, with Sara, it took a while, a long while for her to trust anyone new.

"Sar?" Rai's voice broke through her thoughts. "It's ok, isn't it? I mean you didn't have designs on him, did you?"

"No." Sara gasped, almost laughing. "No, it's fine. Now that I think about it, I think you two will get along really well." She nodded her head, agreeing with herself.

On her end of the phone, Rai smiled. "Nice to hear. Usual Sunday brunch tomorrow?"

"Sounds great." Sara answered "I'll call you later." Rai heard the click of Sara's phone and replaced her own handset back in its cradle. Unwinding the towel around her, Rai stepped into a pair of denim shorts and a pulled on a spaghetti strapped black tank top. She pulled her hair into a haphazard half ponytail, half bun and secured it with an elastic band. Barefoot, she padded into her kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

* * *

An hour later, Nick, himself freshly showered, pulled the Tahoe up to the address Rai had given him. Climbing out of the truck, he pushed the button on the remote hanging from his key chain, clicking the car alarm on, and took two jogging steps to the sidewalk. He craned his neck, checking the apartment doors, looking for apartment F. Climbing the stairs, he found it, knocked, and heard a dog barking from inside. 

"Hush up Monte." Rai hurried to the door and checked the peephole, smiling as she opened the door. "Come on in handsome." She stepped back and to the side, giving him room. Walking past her, he smiled, embarrassed, and looked down at the carpet. When he brought his eyes back up, they trailed her body. Her pink painted toes, bare legs, her breasts, unrestrained by a bra moved underneath the fabric of her top as she shifted from one foot to another under the weight of his glance. Nick cleared his throat, silently laughing at himself.

Rai chewed on her bottom lip and shut the door. Her back to him, Nick couldn't help but look at her ass. "I thought it'd be nice to eat here." She turned around, catching his line of sight before he could look up. "If that's ok with you."

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be fine." Nick tossed his jacket onto the purple couch next to the door.

Monte, jealous he was not the center of attention, let out a short bark. Nick looked down to find the yellow lab at his feet, tail wagging, and his right front leg in a cast. "That's why you didn't take him hiking with you."

Rai snorted. "You're just like Sara, answering your own questions even before asking them." She slapped her thigh "Come on Monte" she said as she made her way down the hall toward the bedroom. Monte looked to Nick, asking for reprieve. Nick cocked his head to one side as if to say, 'sorry buddy'. With a whine, Monte stood up, a bit wobbly and followed Rai to the bedroom. A minute later, Nick heard the door shut. She came back out into the living room. "He broke it two weeks ago, on our last trip out." She turned in her path, stopping at the kitchen door. "It'll just be another minute. Quiche ok?"

"Quiche?"

"Yeah. I mean I didn't know if you'd want breakfast or dinner, since it's the end of your day, so I thought quiche would be a good compromise." She shrugged. "Real men don't eat quiche, do they?" She quoted a commercial from childhood.

"No, no, it's fine. As a matter of fact, anything that isn't from a paper bag sounds good." The kitchen timer went off.

Using her thumb to point into the kitchen behind her, Rai said, "I'll just be a few minutes. Make yourself at home." She disappeared through the kitchen door.

Nick looked around. The purple couch he'd tossed his jacket onto sat next to the front door, facing the television on the opposite wall. An overstuffed red armchair, the kind big enough for two sat in another corner, a hanging lamp over it, and a stack of books on the floor near its legs.

A large easel sat near the window, sketchbooks, colored pencils, pastels and other paraphernalia littered the coffee table. "You're an artist." He called out, half question, half statement. From down the hall, Monte barked.

"Yeah, I illustrate kids books. Just push anything that's in your way to the side." Her voice muffled by the kitchen door.

He walked to the bookshelf on the wall next to the television. Hardbacks and paperbacks lined each of the five shelves, periodically broken up by a knickknack or framed photo. Nick picked up a five by seven picture of a younger Rai and Sara, he guessed they were about seventeen; their arms wrapped around each others shoulders, the Golden Gate behind them. They were both smiling broadly to the camera, eyes squinted in the bright California sun and Nick had to smile himself, caught up in the long ago gaiety.

"That was right before Sara left for Harvard." Rai spoke from the kitchen doorway, he turned to find her placing the quiche and a pot of coffee on to the café sized dining table.

"Let me help you with that." He set the frame back down where he'd found it and walked over to her.

An hour later, quiche reduced by half, the coffee pot drained, Nick tossed his napkin on to his empty plate and finished telling her about a drunk he'd pulled over when he was on the Dallas police force.

"So, I'm in the squad car, calling in his tags, when I see him walk over to the shoulder, unzip and..."

"Oh no!" Rai laughed, astonished.

He nodded emphatically, "Yes! He's taking a leak right there during rush hour." He watched her as she threw her head back and laughed. Seeing her do that, his mind flashed on other things he could do to get her to throw her head back. Rai, still giggling, brought her head back down and caught the look in his eyes. She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth for just a moment before she took a deep breath.

"I'd better clean this up." She stood and reached for his plate, stacking in atop her own and carried them into the kitchen.

A moment later he heard the water in the sink running. Clearing his throat, he willed away the thoughts that were taking over his head, grabbed the coffee pot and cups and walked in to the kitchen.

She was rubbing a soapy sponge over the stovetop and he slid the coffee pot back into its place in the maker. Setting the cups down on the countertop next to the sink, he noticed the sink was nearly full, so he shut off the water. "Something wrong with your dishwasher?"

"Yeah, landlord hasn't fixed it yet."

"Want me to take a look at it?"

She turned and raised an eyebrow. "You know anything about dishwashers?"

An embarrassed grin spread over his face, he looked at his feet and shook his head. "Not a thing."

Her shoulders shook in a silent laugh, she plunged her hands into the sink. "I think I'll wait for my landlord," she laughed.

Nick found himself only inches away, her perfume mixed with the coconut sent of her shampoo. His stomach tightened and before he even realized what he was doing, he reached up, and pulled the elastic band from her hair. Suddenly unbound, auburn corkscrew curls tumbled down her back. She half turned, astonished, he took her face in his hands and pulled her mouth to his. It took only seconds for her brain to catch up, and she parted her lips, deepening the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip in to her mouth. She pulled her hands out of the sink, and threw them around his neck, water dripping from her fingertips down his back. He moved his hands from her face to her shoulders then around to her back, pulling her tighter against him.


	5. Chapter Five

"I need to take Monte out" she said, sitting up from his embrace. Looking around them, she found her shirt and slipped into it. He watched her, from his place on the living room floor, one arm bent and under his head, a lazy smile on his face. He hadn't known if was possible to feel so spent and so exhilarated at the same time.

"Want me to go with you?" He asked, but didn't move.

"Nah" she stepped into her shorts and pulled them up. "He never takes long. Besides. . .." Plopping herself back down on to the floor on her knees, she bent over, her face just above his, hair hanging down like drapes. "I kind of like the idea of you lying here, naked on my floor." She kissed him quickly, pulling herself away and back up onto her feet before things got carried away again. He watched her move down the hall, a devious grin on his face.

****

****

**Week Two**

**Wednesday / Thursday**

Everything around him was in shades of black and gray. Occasionally a sprout of orange or red would pop into his line of sight, as if crying for attention, proud of themselves for successfully hiding from the fire that had raged everything else in the house.

Warrick stepped over a pile of ashes and burnt debris the fire department had left in the middle of the room and looked around him. Several long triangles of fabric hung, barely pinned to the wall, two couches, or what used to be couches, crowded the living room, and there were beer cans everywhere. "What the hell was this place?" He asked the fire chief, who was two steps ahead of him.

"Make shift frat house. Several buddies going to the UNLV rent it out together." The destination reached, he stopped just to the side of what used to be one of the sofas and looked down. "They were behind the couch, we didn't find them until after the fire was out."

Catching up, Warrick took one step past him and crouched next to the two bodies. The couch had taken the brunt of the fire, leaving the two girls virtually unburned. Shoot smudged on their faces and there were ashes all over their clothes, but the fire itself had barely touched them.

They were laid out head to head, one with long blonde hair, the other, shoulder length brunette. Each wore jeans, the blonde with a sweater, the other a tee shirt. Warrick guessed they were about seventeen. He shook his head. "What a waste."

He collected what he could on the bodies, and waved in the corners office before he began to scrutinize the rest of the house. His flashlight sent sweeping illuminating circles around the room, skimming from one spot to another, he heard footsteps behind him and turned to find Detective O'Reilly standing there. "Showed pictures of the vics to the boys," he looked at his notebook "Ben Casing, Steven Hollingsworth and Sedrick Smart. They say they don't know them."

"But you don't believe them?"

The big cop shrugged, "Doesn't make sense. There's only three of them out there, they say they went to Reno for the weekend, got bored, came back early to find the fire department in their driveway and their house on fire."

Warrick continued sending the flashlight beam around the room. "What are you looking for anyway?" O'Reilly asked.

"Know it when I find it." Warrick replied as he found it. The flashlight beam landed on a piece of carpeting, a half inch sized circle of the carpet pile was depressed, as if something heavy had been sitting there for a while. Stepping closer, he shone the light to either side of the dent and found three other dents just like it. If he'd been playing connect the dots, he'd have a rectangle, about two feet across one foot deep. "What the hell was here?" He whispered to himself.

* * *

"Hey Warrick!" He stopped mid stride and turned half around at the sound of his name, Catherine was half way down the lab hall, catching up to him with long jogging strides. "Hey" she said arriving at his side a little out of breath.

"Hey."

"I ran the prints from our B&E, no matches."

"Huh." Warrick sighed, it'd happened before. "Do me a favor" he changed subjects, and opened up the manila folder in his hands, handing Catherine pictures of the dented carpet from the fire scene. "What does this look like to you?"

Catherine tucked her hair behind her ear and cocked her head, scrutinizing the photos. "These from your fire?" Warrick nodded. She shook her head, "Coffee table? No, to short; bookcase maybe?" She guessed again.

"Well, whatever it is..."

"Warrick!" The sound of his name stopped him in mid sentence, both he and Catherine looked up to find David, assistant coroner poking his head around the corner. "Your fire victims are up. You coming?"

"Already?" Warrick asked, surprised.

David shrugged. "You caught me on a good day. Looking a gift horse in the mouth?"

"Hell no." He started after David, "Thanks" he called back to Catherine over his shoulder.

* * *

"Victim one, Claudia Hollingsworth, broken neck. Victim two, Denise Grant" the two men moved to the other table where the brunette lay. "Gun shot wound to the chest."

"No smoke or ash in their lungs?"

"None. They were dead before the fire began."

"Got the bullet?" Warrick asked and watched as David extracted it from the brunette's chest. Pieces of tissue attached to the slug strung out like melted cheese, then sprung back to the wound with a sickening snap. _So much for pizza for dinner_ Warrick thought to himself as he held open an evidence envelope for David to slip the cartridge into. "Thanks man."


	6. Chapter Six

Warrick poured coffee into an oversized blue ceramic mug emblazoned with the LVPD emblem. He took a sip, and pulled a face. As he poured the contents of both the mug and the remnants of the pot down the sink drain, he wondered idly if this was the same pot he'd made ten hours ago. After pouring fresh grounds into the filter and clean water into the pot, he hit the start button and walked over to the table in the middle of the break room and sat. Folding his arms on the tabletop, he laid his head down to take advantage of the quiet room and catch a little sleep while he waited for the coffee to perk.

The peace and quiet was interrupted a few minutes later with the arrival of Greg and Sara. "Bit's of broken glass in the vacuum bag?" Sara asked walking in.

"Glass that matches the broken wine bottle Gris found in the trash." Greg elaborated.

"So, the wine bottle breaks, _someone_ cleans it up with paper towels, then vacuums up the small pieces."

"Maybe the killer." Greg walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself and Sara a cup.

"Your killer didn't use the vacuum." Hodges walked in. Warrick groaned softly.

"Excuse me?" Sara asked.

Hodges handed her one of the three manila folders he was holding. "Prints on the vacuum handle are Jan Taylor's."

"That's to be expected, it was her vacuum." Sara mumbled reading the report.

"Yes, but if your perp vacuumed, his prints would be on the handle, or, if he'd wore his gloves, her prints would be smudged."

"The blue fibers I found were from gloves?" Greg asked stepping into the conversation.

Hodges handed him a second folder, and crossed his arms over his chest, hugging the final report to him, like a schoolgirl holding her books. "Midnight blue to be exact. The fibers you found in the bathroom are consistent with the type of material used in the manufacturing of cold weather accoutrements." He moved to the counter and poured a cup of coffee.

"What's this about gloves?" Grissom walked in, closely followed by Nick. Gil stopped just behind Sara, on her right, reading the report over her shoulder. Sara glanced briefly up at him. Nick, on Sara's left, reached out and adjusted the folder a little so he could read it better. Sara glanced at him, a small grin spread over her face. Nick cleared his throat and looked away.

Hodges jumped to attention, "The blue cotton fibers Greg found are from regular, run of the mill cotton gloves." He said trying to belittle Greg's contribution. He handed Grissom the third and final folder. "The results of the wine bottle and paper towels you found." He continued before Gil had the chance to even glance at the report. "Prints on the broken glass are your victims. And the blood we found on one of the pieces of glass is your victims as well."

"She cut herself picking up the pieces."

Hodges nodded and rocked on the balls of his feet, ready to jump just as soon as Grissom said how high.

Grissom looked up from the report, glancing around the room for Greg. He found him, leaning against the counter, just behind Warrick, whose head was still on his arms. "Greg, what about the vacuum bag?"

Dejected, Hodges took a sip of coffee and left the room. Nick used the opportunity to move away from Sara's smirk, and walked to the counter, pouring coffee into the mug Warrick had left next to the maker. He turned around, sipping, and found Sara's eyes still on him, the same smirk on her face. Quickly, he turned his back to her, and, needing something to do, poured Grissom a cup. With a plan to avoid eye contact with Sara, he turned back around and handed Grissom the coffee.

Gil's eyes narrowed, he couldn't remember if he'd requested the coffee or not. With a 'Thanks' he turned his attention back to Greg. "The only hair in the vacuum was the vic's?" Greg only nodded. Grissom waggled a finger. "Show me."

Alone with Sara, expect for Warrick, who he assumed to be asleep, Nick said: "Alright, what'd she tell you?"

With a little panic, Sara held up the hand holding the report. "Nothing, I swear. I asked, she avoided the question, said it would be too weird. _You_ are the one who just told me something happened between you two."

Nick moved his chin a little, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. "She didn't tell you anything?" Sara shook her head. "Then what was that when I walked in?"

Sara's smirk returned. "Just giving you shit."

Nick closed his eyes, feeling pretty stupid. "Yeah, ok." They left the room together. "What was it that Greg found in the vacuum bag?" He asked trying to catch up.

The abrupt silence struck Warrick and he lifted his head, making sure he was alone. Heaving a sigh, he was about to put his head back down when his cell phone rang. Yanking the phone off his belt clip, he flipped it open. "Warrick Brown" he barked hoarsely.

"Warrick, O'Reilly. Need you back down at the scene of the fire, there's something you need to see."

"Ok, give me twenty." He clicked the phone shut. With a deep breath, he swung his long arms and rose from the chair and turned to the coffee pot.

It was empty.

* * *

After stopping at the first convenience store and buying the largest cup of coffee he could, Warrick maneuvered his Tahoe around O'Reilly's Taurus that was half in and half out of the driveway, and parked next to the curb in front of the wannabe frat house.

Hopping out Warrick walked around the back of the truck to where O'Reilly was waiting for him.

"What's up?"

The brawny cop with a sever crew cut turned, headed back up the driveway and gave Warrick a wave, indicating he should follow. "It's in the back yard." As they made their way up the driveway and through the gate that lead to the backyard, he explained further. "I had the boys upstairs in one of the bedrooms. One of them, Ben, asks to use the bathroom. Ten minutes later, one of the uniforms is bringing him back up from where he found him, back here."

O'Reilly stopped in front of some tall bushes, weeds sprouting around like confetti. "What was he doing back here?" Warrick asked.

"Checking on this." O'Reilly pulled back two of the shrubs to reveal a hidden big screen TV.

* * *

The lanky limbed criminalist and the beefy sergeant made for quite the contrast as they stood quietly in the interrogation room watching the three boys sweat in their seats.

"Alright." Warrick slapped a folder down on the table, getting their attention. "Whose dumb ass idea was it to hide the television?"

None of the boys answered, they just glanced back and forth to each other.

Warrick nodded, silence was what he had expected. "Ok, well, I think that Claudia died first, probably was an accident. And one of you shot Denise because she saw."

The boys stopped looking at each other.

_Claudia lies dead on the bedroom floor, her neck at an unnatural angle. Ben stands over her, stunned. Suddenly, Denise runs into the room, laughing, Steven right behind her, his hands out in front of him, fingers claw like, he's about to tackle and tickle her. Denise sees her friend and room mate on the floor and begins to scream. _

'_Shhhh' He holds out a hand, like he's begging her. When her screaming continues, he shouts at her 'Stop it' _

'_Ben! What the hell happened?" Steven shouts over the screaming. _

_Instead of answering him, Ben races to the bedside table and pulls out a gun, points and shoots. Denise, her hands on her chest, the blood already seeping through her fingers, stops screaming and looks stupidly at Ben before she falls to the floor, her back landing on Claudia's legs. _

Hearing the gunshot, Sedrick rushes into the room only to stop short at seeing the girls. Ben has collapsed on the bed, Steven stands in the middle of the room, weeping.

"You set the fire to cover up the dead bodies in your living room. And you moved the TV to the backyard to save it from the fire." Warrick finished his recount.

"I told you it wouldn't work." Sedrick hisses.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Friday / Saturday**

The waitress bent over farther than she really need to as she placed Nick's ice tea in front of him. Sitting to his left at the small square table, Rai noticed the obvious flirtation and looked to Sara, as if to say _What the hell?_ Sara had noticed it too, and laid her hand out, palm open and facing up, fingers pointing in Nick's direction, the unspoken female communication saying, _He's clueless._

Rai laughed out loud. "What?" Nick asked, coming out from behind his menu. "What'd I miss?"

"The Taj Mahal of breasts in your face." Rai told him pointing toward the retreating waitress.

"Really?" He turned in his seat, trying to find the owner of the breasts. "Wow." Turning back, he winked at Rai, a smile crinkling his face. _Got ya._

Rai blinked, and pursed her lips, not believing she'd fallen for his little prank.

Sara laughed at the exchange. "I can't believe someone observant enough to solve a locked room murder didn't see those breasts in his face."

"He wasn't thinking about food when he solved..." it hit Rai what Sara had just said, she turned her head quickly to Nick "A genuine locked room murder? Like in mystery novels?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, a janitor dropped a hammer on the victims head from the ceiling air duct" he explained.

"That's not in any of the books I've read" Rai muttered.

"Ya'll ready to order?" The waitress, her nametag read Wendy, reappeared at the table, on the empty side between Nick and Sara.

"Yeah," Nick said "Steak, medium. Baked and Caesar."

"And for you ma'am?" Wendy turned to Rai.

_Ma'am? _Rai thought. "Salmon please, with rice."

Sara spoke before she was asked. "Vegetable plate, and could you bring another bread basket."

"Sure thing." She smiled, directed more at Nick than the two women, and walked away to place the order.

"Vegetables." Rai muttered. She slid her eyes over to Nick, who shrugged.

"Don't start." Sara held up a hand in a stopping gesture.

"I have _got_ to see one of those pig experiments." Rai muttered, referring to the experiments the CSI's ran from time to time to test the effects of various weapons or circumstances on flesh. Sara had sworn off meat after witnessing her first pig experiment.

"No you don't." Both Nick and Sara said in unison.

"Hey Nick, did you get the results on the car accident before you left this morning?" Sara changed the subject. Sort of.

He shook his head. "No, but we did find the drivers skin scrapings under the DOA passengers finger nails. Makes me think there's something else to this whole thing."

"That only proves that she scratched him, they were a couple, they could have sex just before getting in the car." Sara argued.

Rai glanced down at her hands, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Yeah, well, the driver? He's already lawyered up..."

"Hey-ay." Rai interrupted, getting their attention. They both looked at her a little stunned. "No crime talk at the dinner table."

* * *

**Week Three**

**Wednesday / Thursday**

Time, Fate and some creative scheduling had finally allowed for the nightshift team to be able to all sit down at the same time.

"Ok, so what do we know?" Grissom looked around the table, making eye contact with each of his team members. Silence answered him. No one wanted to be the first to speak.

"Victim, Jan Taylor, COD, strangulation, the lamp cord around her throat, autopsy confirms rape." Grissom laid out the basic facts to get them started.

"Two wine glasses set out, like she was expecting company" Greg jumped in, "And a broken wine bottle and paper towels with only the vics fingerprints in the trash."

"Well, she didn't have a date." Sara added, "Brass talked to the friend who found her" she consulted her notes, "Jerome Hodgkin's, he said that Jan didn't have a date that night, and...that she was a lesbian."

Nick and Warrick raised their eyebrows at the revelation. "Two wine glasses, and no date?" Nick asked no one in particular.

Catherine shrugged, "We may never know why there were two glasses."

"Did Brass check out this Hodgkin's?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah" Warrick answered, flipping open a file in front of him. "He was at work, at the casino, on camera at the time of the rape. And Brass checked out the vic's other male co-workers, they all have an alibi, expect for," he glanced at the file. "Bradford Crain, the eighty year old arthritic security guard" he pointed at Grissom "I know what you think about hunches, but I just don't think he did it." Grissom smiled a little at the jibe.

"All of them have an alibi?" Catherine asked, incredulous.

He nodded. "It's a small casino. Only twenty-five employees, fifteen of who are male, eight of them, including Hodgkin's, were at work and on film. The others, excluding Crain, have family or friends supporting their alibis."

"And no signs of forced entry on the doors or windows." Grissom said.

"She had to have known her attacker, a single female wouldn't let just anyone in her apartment." Sara told them.

"So, who do you let in to your apartment?" Grissom asked the table. All of them began to search their brains and memories, trying to come up with an answer. The room grew so silent; that the shrill ringing of Grissom's cell phone startled all of them. Sara jumped a little in her seat, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed.

Gil grabbed the phone and flipped it open before it could ring a second time. "Grissom" he answered. Everyone table watched as he listened, then slowly closed his eyes, grief coming over his face. "Uh huh. What's the address?" Catherine held out her pen, and Grissom took it, jotting down what he was being told. "Give us twenty." He clicked the phone shut with out waiting for a reply.

"That was Brass. We've got another victim."


	8. Chapter Eight

The convoy of Tahoe's pulled into the neighborhood, three trucks, each carrying two CSI's. Nick and Sara, Warrick and Catherine, Greg and Grissom. Each driver found a parking space amid the police cars, ambulance, coroners van and the curious neighbors that lined the street. Climbing out, they all walked to the back of their particular truck, and unloaded the kits, cameras and equipment. Grissom climbed out of the black Tahoe and headed straight for Brass, who'd watched their arrival next to the street side mailbox. He shook his head and smiled slightly to himself, they looked like an army preparing for battle, Grissom the general, taking to the battlefield before his troupes. Which, he supposed, they were.

"You sure it's the same guy?" Grissom asked, still three feet away from Brass.

The captain looked at him as if he'd grown horns, and waggled his finger. "Come with me."

"Who found her?" Grissom asked Brass's back as they walked up the driveway toward the door.

"Husband, he came home from his kids school play and found her. He says he didn't touch anything but her, to check to see if she was dead, and the phone when he called 911." Brass answered the question he knew Gil was about to ask.

"His wife didn't go to the school play?"

"Victim is his second wife, kids are from his first marriage."

The other CSI's had arrived, loaded down with their equipment, and together they made their way into the house.

Thick white carpet padded their entrance. Grissom took a moment to acclimate himself, then began handing out assignments. "Greg, outside parameter, Nick, kitchen and living room. Warrick, dust for prints. Sara and Catherine, you're with me." Each criminalist headed to their assignment, adding to Brass's mental picture of an army.

Sara took in the living room as they passed through it. An uncomfortable looking sofa and love seat in alternating dark and light blue stripes dominated the room. An upright piano stood in one corner, sheet music at the ready. A large and ornately carved cabinet housed a television and electronic equipment. A set of shelves near the stairs displayed a collection of what Sara guessed were antique teacups.

On one wall of the stairwell hung school pictures of two kids, one boy one girl. Climbing the stairs, they all studied the pictures that ascended the steps. Each step a new picture. They watched the children grow older as they went up the stairs.

The master bedroom was off to the right at the landing. Sara, walking in the room last, her attention on the large chest of drawers that sat right inside the door, almost bumped into Catherine who had stopped in her tracks. Looking over Catherine's shoulder, Sara saw the reason she had stopped short. The victim lay flat on her back at the foot of the bed. Knees were bent, angled to the left. Her hands were lying near her ears, palms up, and strands of dark honey colored hair intertwined within her fingers that were frozen claw like. A clock radio lay upside down above her head, it's cord trailing down through her hair and wrapped around her throat, twice.

Brass turned to Grissom, and in his trademark sarcastic tone asked, "So, do you think it's the same guy?"

* * *

"What do they have in common?" Grissom asked.

Catherine sighed deeply and folded her arms across her chest. They'd laid out the photo's of both crime scenes on Grissom's desk, Jan Taylor, their first victim on the left; Eleanor Candlestein, their latest victim, on the right. Her eyes flicked back and forth searching for anything. "They're both red heads."

"Un huh. What else?"

"Weapon of opportunity. Beside lamb, bedside clock, both with in a few feet of the victim."

"Why strangulation? Wouldn't it have been easier to bring a gun with him and shoot the women after he raped them?"

Catherine shrugged off a shiver. "Strangulation is personal. Maybe a gun isn't part of what ever story he's using to get into these women's home."

"Or he's partial to up close and personal."

"Jan worked in a casino, Eleanor used to be a showgirl...there might be a connection..." her sentence trailed off.

Grissom took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. "When Warrick printed the Candlestein house, he found a lot of smudges."

"Killer wore his blue gloves again." Catherine said.

"And again, and again." Catherine and Gil looked up from the photos to find Capitan Brass standing in the open office doorway.

"What?" Catherine asked him.

Brass took two steps in, and held up two brown case file folders. "I ran the MO through the system, came up with two more hits." He handed them each a file.

Catherine took hers, and continued to stare at him for another moment. "Jan Taylor wasn't the first victim?"

Brass shook his head. "Nope."

Gil opened the file, turning to the photos first. Expect for the color of the bedclothes, the photo in his hands and those on his desk were almost identical. Quickly he turned back to the first page of the report and ran his finger down the paper until he found what he was looking for. Catherine had done the same, and they looked up at each other almost at the same time.

"Dayshift." Grissom said, pissed.


	9. Chapter Nine

He considered finding Ecklie and tearing him a new one. He had even slapped the case folder on to his desk and taken a few angry steps toward the door when his better judgment took hold. Any conversation with Ecklie was a waste of time. Time that would be better spent processing the evidence, catching the killer and getting justice for the now four victims. Already halfway to the door, he decided to check in on his CSI's progress in the lab rooms.

Warrick sat in the darkened room; his arms folded across his chest, the computer screen in front of throwing a glow on his face as it quickly flashed though the hundreds of fingerprints, automatically comparing it to the prints found at the scene. Grissom watched the pc for a moment before turning to Warrick. "No..." he stopped, his unasked question hung in the air. Warrick's eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. Gil thought back, calculating the hours Warrick worked this week. Quietly he left the room, letting the CSI sleep.

Greg on the other hand, was wide-awake. To awake, actually, and Gil wondered what percentage of his blood was pure caffeine. "Hey" Greg greeted, seeing his boss in the threshold. "Brass interviewed one of Candlestein's neighbors who saw a car pull up in front of the house shortly after the husband left for the kids play. She's not good with cars, and wasn't paying that much attention, but she said it was an older model, a Cadillac like car, long hood and trunk. Black, or maybe dark blue. I pulled some tire tracks from the front of the house, where the neighbor said the car was parked. Got them running now." He pointed at the computer sitting on the desk in front of him.

Grissom smiled a little. "Good job." Greg returned the smile, basking in the praise. Grissom handed him the DNA reports from the two dayshift case folders. "We just learned that dayshift also had two cases with the same MO." Greg's smile faltered. "They found some DNA, I need you to double check their results."

"Yes sir." Greg answered soberly, taking the two sheets of paper from him.

Nick and Sara both had their eyes glued to microscopes, so after a brief pause in the doorway, Grissom left them to their work, without them ever knowing he'd been there.

Back in his office, Catherine and Brass had taken out the photos of what they now knew to be the first two victims and laid them next to the photos nightshift had taken of their own scenes. "The two new vic's were both redhead's too." She told Grissom as he walked into his office.

"Yeah." He agreed, recalling the glimpse of the photo he'd had before he'd almost set off to find Ecklie. He turned his attention to Brass. "We need to know everything about these women. I want to know where they bought their groceries, what kind of food they bought, where they took their dry cleaning; bought their prescriptions." He continued, pointing his index finger. "What vets they used, where they banked, what credit cards they owned. Everything! There's something that connects these women besides the color of their hair, and I want to know what it is."

Brass nodded "I'll get on it." He said and left the room to get started.

Catherine's eyebrows were raised in mild surprise at Grissom's outburst. "Anything from the labs?" She asked as he flopped down into the chair behind his desk.

He slipped his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Greg has some tire tracks from the Candlestein home that he's running, and a possible description of a car. Nick and Sara are working on trace and Warrick's asleep."

"Didn't know you'd seen that." Warrick's sleep heavy voice spoke from the doorway. "I ran the prints from the house tonight." He took the two steps into Grissom's office and handed him the paper in his hands.

"You get any hits?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah, the husband." He shook his head to her raised eyebrows. "He was a Marine, prints are on file from then. He doesn't have a record."

"And a lot of smudges." Gil said.

"A lot of smudges." Warrick sat in one of the two empty chairs facing the desk.

"Well," Gil said as he flipped the dayshift case files around so they faced Warrick. "We've got two new victims."

"What?" He picked up one of the files and quickly read through the report. "Dayshift" he muttered.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Week Four**

**Friday / Saturday **

Rai was on the floor, her back against the loveseat, with her head propped up in her left hand, elbow resting on the edge of the coffee table. Her right hand held a pencil and was working furiously. Nick was lying on the loveseat behind her, his knees on the armrest, feet dangling over the edge. Every few minutes he would glance from the TV over her shoulder to the image that was emerging from her pencil tip. He finally gave up the battle and pointed the remote at the TV, shutting it off.

"Why three?" He asked quietly, so as to not startle her.

She didn't stop, her pencil kept moving. "Three what?"

"Three is dominate in the drawing." He sat up and swung one leg over her head and scooted on the cushions so he was right behind her. "Look, three groups of three stars each." He pointed as he went on. "Three rabbits, three flowers." He bent down, his head next to hers, "Why three?"

"Three is a magical number in kids books."

"It is?"

"Yeah. Think about it." She put her pencil down and shifted so her back was against his knee.

"Three bears, three blind mice, three fairies in Sleeping Beauty. Cinderella has three evil stepsisters, well, ok, one was a step_mother_, but there were three of them altogether; you see my point." She pressed her lips together, trying to hide a smile, she was making it up as she went, and he could tell.

"Ah" he said playing along, "but there were _seven_ dwarfs."

"Name them" she challenged.

He counted off on his fingers. "Dopey... Doc...Grumpy..." she gave him a moment to think about it.

"Um hmm. Three!" She teased triumphantly, no longer trying to hide the smile.

"Know what else comes in three's?" He leaned in and kissed her.

Later, in the early evening, they were in her bed, her head rested on his chest, his arm draped around her shoulders. They were laughing at the story Rai had just finished telling him. "So _that's_ why Sara is grossed out by saliva." Nick said with a last chuckle.

Rai pushed up with her hands, moving her head to look at him. Through final giggles, she said: "You _can not _let her know I told you. She'd kill me!" The mental picture Rai had just described of a fourteen-year-old Sara and saliva popped back into Nicks head, and he began to laugh again. From the hallway, Monte began to bark, excited by the commotion. Nick's cell phone began to ring, adding to the noise of the laughter and barking.

"Aw damn it." He pulled his arm out from around her and she moved away, letting him up. "Where're my pants?" He said as he swung his feet onto the floor. He found them before she had a chance to answer. Confronted with his nakedness, Rai playfully covered her eyes, and then moved two fingers apart, giving her peeking room. Nick saw her and laughed as he glanced at the caller id, "Grissom" he told her as he flipped it open. "Stokes" he answered and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"I need you," Grissom didn't bother with a hello. "Got a DB at the Sphere. Sara's already there."

"Alright. I'm on it." He clicked the phone shut and let out a frustrated groan. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he glanced over his shoulder to where she lay behind him, her hair a mass of mayhem around her head.

"Gotta go?" She asked.

* * *

Catherine tucked her hair behind her ear and left her hand there, holding back the rest of her hair as she bent and drank from the water fountain.

"Catherine." Gils voice rang out, bouncing off the walls and floor of the unusually quiet hall.

Removing her thumb from the fountain push button, she stood, startled more by the tone of his voice than the volume of it. Her brow knitted, "What is it?"

Grissom handed her the sheet of paper in his hands. He watched her face as she read, his eyes narrowing. "Gil..." she said and stopped, not knowing what more to say.

"She's asked for you." Catherine's face went from shock to confusion. "I'm sending Greg and Warrick to her apartment, it's our primary."

"Where's Nick?"

"On a DB at the Sphere, Sara's with him."

"How do we..." Catherine kept finding herself at a loss for words.

Gil put his hand on her elbow, steadying her. "Go talk to Rai. When you're ready for Nick and Sara to know, call my cell." He took a breath "I'll tell them."


	11. Chapter Eleven

A nurse slipped through the opening in the curtains, turning to make sure they closed behind her. Catherine approached the tall brunette, glancing at the nameplate pinned to her breast pocket, Shirley. Catherine reached into her pocket and flashed her credentials, "Catherine Willows, I'm with the crime lab." Her voice came out more subdued than she had intended.

The nurse nodded, in acknowledgement or agreement, Catherine didn't know. As Shirley took the few steps to close the distance between them, Catherine realized she'd dealt with her before. A hollowness hit her stomach when she realized just how many times she'd been here to interview a victim and how she still had to read the woman's name tag.

"She's refused the vaginal swabs." Shirley told her in a muted, not quite whispering tone that only nurses used.

"What?"

"She let us take scrapings from under her nails, do a preliminary physical exam, and we've go her clothes for you, but she refused the swabs." Shirley handed Catherine bags similar to the evidence bags she herself used.

Catherine took them, shaking her head. "I don't understand."

Shirley shrugged as if that was enough of an answer. "She should be finished getting dressed. Go on in."

Switching the evidence into her left hand, Catherine approached the closed white curtain. "Rai?" she called softly in lieu of knocking.

"Come in." Rai answered, her voice weak.

Parting the curtains, she slipped inside, repeating the nurse's earlier gesture of double-checking the closure.

"Hi." Rai said, turning around. She was wearing black sweat pants and a gray tee shirt, the kind of clothes hospitals kept on hand for rape victims. Her hair hung in her face, and Catherine wondered if Rai was trying to hide behind it. It looked to Catherine that she'd received, among other things, a left hook across her cheekbone. A cut above her right eye, her bottom lip was split, the base of her throat was red, and swollen. Rai saw her looking; her hand went to her throat.

Catherine lifted her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't know what to say."

Rai shrugged. "Say what you would say to any other victim." Her voice broke, calling herself a victim.

Taking a deep breath, Catherine began. "Ok. Tell me what happened."

Rai's eyes drifted just to the right of Catherine's face and glassed over. "It was about 9 o'clock I guess. Nick had left about an hour before, when Grissom called him." Catherine noted Rai had dropped the Mr. from Grissom's name, slipping into the familiar habit she'd probably picked up explained, her voice tinged with a whine, like a child trying to convince his parents he'd done his from Nick and Sara both. "There was a knock on my door. I checked the peephole," Rai homework. "It was a policeman." Catherine's eyes exploded open at the revelation. "He said that there was an escaped prisoner and they were checking all the apartments." Rai shrugged, her eyes coming back into focus. "I had no reason to not believe him."

"Did this...policeman" Catherine choked on the word "mention Nick or Sara by name?" She didn't know where she was headed with that question, but sometimes that was when she got the best answers.

Rai shook her head. "No. He told me to stay in the living room while he checked the apartment. After he was in the bedroom for a minute or two, he called me back there, so I went." She shrugged again. "He, umm, hadn't turned on the light, and before I could, he was behind me, and pushed me on the bed." She met Catherine's eyes. "I don't remember him taking off my panties. How can I not remember that?" She didn't wait for answer, knowing there really wasn't one. "His hand was on my throat" she reached up, fingering her neck "So hard to breathe. Then he was on top of me, and in...inside me."

"Did he have a gun?"

"No. Not that I saw." She paused, thinking, then shook her head as if to clear it. "I ah, have a clock radio on my bedside table. I think he pulled that out from the wall, it sounded like that anyway; you know how a radio will give a short burst of noise when it loses power? Well it did that, and I think the noise surprised him, 'cause he stopped and that's when I ran." She swallowed hard. "He tackled me in the living room; I fell. He turned me over, so I was face up, and I kneed him in the groin. He fell over and I ran out the door." She took a deep breath; grateful she'd gotten through the story, steeling herself for the numerous times she'd have to tell it again. Especially to the one person she'd give anything not to have to tell. Nicks face flashed in her mind, and she shut her eyes against the image.

"Your lucky to be alive." Catherine's voice broke through her thoughts.

Rai nodded.

"Rai...why'd you refuse the vaginal swab?"

Rai licked her lips. "He was wearing a condom."

"You're sure?"

Again, Rai nodded. Catherine pursed her lips. "There's still a possibility of semen, and it'll help at trial if we had the swabs."

Rai took an unsteady step toward her, and in a whisper she said: "Catherine, the...guy who did this wore one, but" she paused, and Catherine could see her struggling with her choice of words. "But, Nicky didn't. He told me about that girl, Krisiti, how he was a suspect..."

Catherine took a deep, almost relieved, breath. "That's not going to happen again. You're not accusing Nick." She put her hand on Rai's arm. "We need the swab."

Rai looked up at her, through her lashes, her eyes searching Catherine's. After a moment she nodded. "Ok."

A moment later, Catherine was back on the other side of the curtain, beckoning the nurse over. "She's agreed to the swabs." Shirley nodded in understanding and passed through the curtains. While she was waiting, Catherine pulled out her cell phone and punched in Grissom's number.

"Grissom" he picked up on the first ring.

"It's me." Catherine said into the phone, turning her back on the curtains and taking a few steps away.

"How is she?" Gil asked quietly.

Catherine took a deep breath. "Cuts, bruises. Other than that, exactly as you'd expect. Gil, she said the perp was dressed as a cop."

"What?"

"Came to her door in a uniform. Gave her some bull about searching for an escaped con." She could hear Grissom breathing into the phone, deep in thought.

"I'll call Brass, let him know..." he stopped short and Catherine could hear Nick's voice suddenly in the background, she guessed he must have just walked into the room.

"You ready?" Gil asked into the phone.

"As I'll ever be. Good luck." She clicked her phone shut.

Hanging up, Grissom took a deep breath. "Nick." He called and waved a come here motion. Concern took over Nicks face when he saw Grissom's expression.

"What's up boss?"

"Shut the door, Nicky."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Rai was getting dressed again when she heard the emergency rooms double doors burst open as if rammed by a bull. It wasn't an unfamiliar noise, she'd already heard similar entrances several times throughout the night, but even before she'd heard his voice, somehow she knew this time was different.

"Where is she?" Nicks voice was hard and horse, tinged with fear. Catherine replied in a tone to soft for Rai to hear. She was grateful for Catherine's calming presence. A few moments later she saw Nicks shadowed silhouette at the break in the curtains. "Rai?" He called, almost to tenderly for her to hear.

_Come on in handsome_ echoed distantly in her head. "Yeah." She answered; it was all she could think to say. His fingers parted the curtains slowly, apprehensively he stepped through.

She was leaning up against the examine table, staring at the floor, unable to look at him, didn't want to see the effect of this on him, wished she could keep it from him. "Rai." He called her name gently; she gave in and looked up. He took it all in, the bruises, the cuts, the hollowness and pain in her eyes. His head dipped to the side, grief and helplessness etched into his face. She saw exactly what she knew she'd see, what she didn't want to see, her lip quivered, the dam she'd been holding back threatening to break free and pour forth. Instantly he was in front of her, his arms moved up to embrace her, hovering just above her shoulders. She fell into him, suddenly weak. He pulled her into him, his hands tight on her back. Her tears were piercing, his were silent.

* * *

The Tahoe's brakes squealed as Warrick pulled up and stopped hard in front of Rai's apartment. Throwing the gearshift into park he shut off the engine and jumped out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. In two steps he was at the back of the truck, unloading his kit and camera, as if his speediness could catch the rapist/murder any sooner. He'd seen things that he'd never imagined one human could do to another, and he'd become somewhat immune to them, but this time it had hit to close to home, hurting not one of his friends, but two. Greg stood on the sidewalk, mute, he'd never seen Warrick this angry before, and he wasn't sure what to do.

Following the same path that Nick had taken that first morning, they found Rai's apartment, the door slightly ajar. Brass was waiting inside, standing near the far wall, staring up at one of Rai's paintings that hung next to the television. He turned hearing their entrance.

Muffled dog barks greeted them. "Where's the dog?" Greg asked, speaking for the first time since he'd climbed into the Tahoe back at the lab.

"In the kitchen." Brass pointed to the door. "Animal control is on the way."

Warrick glanced around, getting a feel for the place. He pointed with a movement of his head. "Bedroom back there?"

"Yeah." Brass answered somberly.

They stopped in the doorway, taking in the room as a whole before picking apart the pieces. Glancing over his shoulder Warrick said "Greg, take the bathroom." With a nod, Greg turned and left.

A clock radio was on the floor half way between the bed and the door, it's cord strung out like a tail. The bed hadn't been made; the chocolate brown comforter was bunched up at the head of the bed in an odd shape. Nothing else jumped out as out of place. Warrick looked to Brass as he snapped on his gloves, heaved a sigh of resignation and stepped into the bedroom.

First thing, he photographed the clock then bagged it. Opening his kit, he pulled out his flashlight, and ran the illuminating beam over the sheets. Tweezing each hair he found, and bagging it in a small clear plastic bag, Warrick wondered how many of them were Nicks.

As he began to strip the bed, Brass's cell phone rang. Answering it, the LVPD captain stepped back into the living room, allowing Warrick to work in peace.

Thirty minutes later, just as he was labeling the final bag, Brass called him from the living room. Warrick walked out there, and found Brass staring at the floor near the front door.

"That was Grissom." He slipped the phone back into his pocket. "She's got some cuts and bruises, but she's not to badly hurt." He realized what he said and shrugged, unable to take it back or make it better. "Rai told Catherine the perp was startled by the radio, giving her enough time to get away from him. He tackled her," Brass held out his arms, as if telling Warrick about the size of a fish that got away, "about here. And, this is my favorite part, she kneed him in the groin and ran out the door."

From inside the kitchen Monte barked, as if to say that was his favorite part as well.

"Good girl" Warrick mumbled staring at the carpet.

Brass recognized the look on the CSI's face. "Think you can get something?"

"Maybe." Warrick set his field kit on the floor and took out a handful plastic sticks; they resembled extra long chopsticks. As he began to lay out a grid, he explained. "If the guys face hit the carpet, there may be saliva, I know my mouth would be hanging open if I'd just been kicked in the gonads." Brass gave a small smile. "Or we may be able to lift skin cells from his hands or even face." He finished off the grid as Greg walked into the room.

"Got a couple of fluid samples off the toilet seat."

"Good." Warrick answered, not looking up. "Print the door."

Brass stepped out of the way, and watched the two work. Warrick ran swabs over each square he'd created and Greg brushed black finger print powder on the handle and edges of the front door.

"Hey." A voice came from just outside the front door, startling them all. Greg opened the door a little wider and Warrick looked up from the carpet to find Sara standing in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes drained and stunned.

"You can't work this," he said simply.

"I know. I came to get Monte." Upon hearing his name, and Sara's familiar voice, Monte barked.

Warrick looked up to Brass, who shrugged in answer. "Your scene man."

"Alright." Warrick didn't like the idea of animal control taking the dog anyway.

"Thanks" Sara said stepping through the threshold, and around Warrick's grid. Instead of going straight to the kitchen, she headed down the hall, breaking the rules, but not caring. "I'm gonna get her some clothes, you're done in here, right?"


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Nick sat on the edge of his bed, arms resting on his thighs, his head hung low. He glanced up to his alarm clock, only three minutes had passed since his last glance. He blew out a breath between pursed lips, staring at the wall. She'd retreated to the shower the moment they'd gotten back to his town house, and even though she'd tried to do it softly, he'd heard her lock the bathroom door behind her. The water had been running for forty-five minutes, and when he'd passed the bathroom door on his way into the bedroom, he could feel the heat escaping from the crack at the bottom of the door. Nick knew rape victims scrubbed themselves after their attack, at a seminar, he'd seen photos of one victim who'd scrubbed so hard for so long, and with such hot water, she'd taken off the first few layers of her own skin, leaving her entire body red and raw as a uncooked steak.

He looked at the clock again. Only another minute had passed. He wanted to go in there. He wanted to break down the door. He wanted to hold her and take all the pain for himself. He wanted to catch the creep that did this to her. He wanted to shove a broomstick up that ass holes ass hole to give him a taste of his own medicine. He wanted to press the muzzle of his side arm against the temple of that son of a bitch and pull the trigger. But mostly, he wanted this all to be a dream.

His cell phone rang, startling him. Grabbing it from the bedside table he flipped it open and brought it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Nick," Brass's voice resonated in his ear. "How's your girlfriend?"

Nick sighed. "She's in the shower."

"Yeah, ok." The seasoned detective understood. "I've sent a uniform to your house."

"Why?" Nick asked, pissed.

"Because the guy who did this to her was about to kill her and he might come back to finish the job."

"I brought her back to my place, how would he know where we are?" The boyfriend of a victim was speaking, not the criminalist trained in the ways of desperate criminals.

"You know as well as I do how." Restrained patience filled Brass's voice.

Nick, with abrupt clarity pictured the bastard waiting outside the hospital and following them to his town house. "Yeah, ok."

"Cop should be there any minute." Brass said at the same time the doorbell rang.

"Think he's here now." Nick said standing and walking though the bedroom. He glanced at the bathroom door as he passed.

"Good." Brass paused. "Nick, if this guy does show...take care of it."

"Yeah." Nick answered and snapped the phone shut. Picking up his revolver, he held it to his side, double checked the chain and opened the door.

He recognized the cop right off, and the muscles in his back relaxed a bit. "Stevenson."

"Hey Stokes" the officer lifted his chin in greeting. "Captain sent me."

"Yeah" was all Nick could come up with to say.

"Ok, well, I'll be here until dawn."

Nick nodded, suddenly very, very tired. "Ok. Let us know if you need anything." He said absently and shut the door.

When he passed the bathroom door on the way back to the bedroom, the shower was off. He sat heavily back down on the bed. A few minutes later the toilet flushed, then he could hear the water run briefly in the sink. Another five minutes passed before he heard the click of the bathroom door lock and she tentatively stepped through the hall and into the bedroom. She was wearing the same sweat pants the hospital had given her, but instead of the tee shirt, she'd pulled one of his sweatshirts out of the hamper. She stopped two steps in from the open doorway, as if for inspection, hugging her elbows across her chest in unconscious self-protection. His eyes darted from her face to her hands, to her feet, back again to her face. The only skin he could see. They were red from the heat of the shower, and had the sheen skin gets when it's well scrubbed, but she wasn't raw, and he exhaled in relief.

She brought her hand to her face, grazing over the bruise on her cheek, quickly moving her hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I took so long in there" she tried to smile but failed.

He shook his head and stood "Don't apologize. No need." They stood a few feet apart, but the cavern between them was huge. He put his hands in his pockets. She swallowed hard. Silence threatened to over flow the room. He was thinking about the light he'd seen in her eyes when they'd first met, trying not to stare at her now, but needing to know if he could see even a tiny flicker still there, needing to know just how much of her was gone. She was thinking about the promise she'd made to him that afternoon in her bed, just after Grissom had called him to work.

_He clicked the phone shut and let out a frustrated groan. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he glanced over his shoulder to where she lay behind him, her hair a mass of mayhem around her head._

_"Gotta go?" She asked._

_"Yeah" he answered turning and pulling himself on to his hands and knees, his face inches from hers. "Sorry 'bout this ma'am" he said in the hokiest southern drawl he could muster._

_Smiling brightly, charmed, she reached out and cupped his face in her right hand, he nuzzled into it. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she ran her finger over the square line of his jaw, then down his chest. He closed his eyes._

_"I suppose they're not gonna get any deader..." he mumbled as he moved in closer._

_"Nope" she laughed, "you've gotta go." Her fingertips lightly pushed him away._

_"But" she began, "I'll be right here. Waiting. For you." He smiled at the thought and groaned again as she pushed him away a second time. Shaking his head, and cursing Grissom, he got dressed._

"I was wondering" she broke the silence "I think I may be able to sketch his face, would that help?" He was torn, the boyfriend said no, hell no, but the criminalist said yes, hell yes.

"If you think you can" he nodded slowly, "yeah."

She took a breath, as if she'd been holding it in. "Kay."

"You want some tea or somthin'?" he made a move toward the door.

"No. I think, I think I'm just gonna go to bed." He stopped, not knowing what to do with himself.

After a moment he bobbed his head. "I could sleep on the couch..." the words hung in the air.

Panic and embarrassment crossed her face "No. I want...I'd like you to stay with me." She reached out, touched his arm.

His head bobbed again and he let out a silent breath between pursed lips. "I need to shower. Won't be but five minutes." He headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

She watched him until the closed door cut him out of view. _Please don't leave me_. She crawled into his bed, and hugged his pillow to her chest, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne and sweat. The doorbell rang. _Who?_ She pushed the sheet off of her and got up, padding though the bedroom and to the front door. Placing her hands flat on the door, she stood on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole.

Nick braced himself with his palms flat on the wall of the shower, his head hanging and let the water cascade down his back. He hadn't felt the tension until it had started to ebb away. Raising his head, he rolled his neck, hearing the bones crack even over the noise of the shower. He soaped up quickly, then ran his lathered hands through his hair before stepping under the spray and rinsing off. He shut off the shower, idly wondering if she'd fallen asleep, if she even could sleep tonight. He stepped out onto the mat, wrapping the towel around his waist, and heard her scream. It was his name, over and over, like one long word.

"NICKNICKNICKNICKNICK"

"Jesus" he lost his footing in his rush, almost falling, but grabbed the towel bar, balanced and raced out, following the sound of her voice, her scream had become primal, no words formed, just one howl after another.

Brass pulled up outside the town house and shut off the engine. In the sudden silence, Rai's scream burst through the air. Spinning his head toward the house, he saw the back of a man in a police uniform, standing in the open doorway. Scrambling out of the Taurus, he left the car door open and ran up the driveway, gun drawn.

Nick ran into the living room and found Rai sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest, still screaming. The officer Nick had spoken to earlier was standing in the kicked in doorway, his gun in his hands, but pointing to the floor. "What the fuck?" Nick hollered through Rai's screams. He knelt next to her, cupping her face in his hands, made soothing sounds, trying to quiet her. She dissolved into sobs and Nick cradled her.

"What the hell happened?" Brass arrived. "Put that away Stevenson." He motioned with his head toward the officers drawn gun at the same time he holstered his own.

"Oh." Stevenson muttered as if he just realized he'd drawn it in the first place.

"What happened?" Brass asked again.

"I needed to take a leak." Steven said sheepishly. "He said to let them know if I needed anything," he explained in answer to Brass's raised eyebrows. "I rang the bell, a minute later, she starts screaming, so I kicked in the door."

"Ok. You" Brass put his hand on Stevenson's shoulder and turned him "come with me." With a backwards glance to Nick and Rai, still on the floor, Brass said, "I'll get someone right out to fix the door." A few yards down the driveway, Brass threw a fatherly arm around Stevenson's shoulder. "Let me explain to you the fine art of killing the grass" he began.

Inside, still in Nicks embrace, Rai sobs had slipped into weeping, her face buried in her hands. Nick moved his right arm underneath her knees and carried her like a child into the bedroom.

Much later, the door fixed by a crew Brass dredged up from somewhere, Rai lay on her right side, her arm underneath her head. Nick was sitting next to her on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He watched her, looking for any sign, but of what, he didn't know. Her eyes hadn't closed since she'd lain down, even as worn out as she was, she wouldn't let herself sleep. He wondered if he should try to get her to take one of the pills the hospital had given her as she blinked drowsily then forced her eyes wide again.

"Want me to get you some water?" He asked, hoarseness in his soft voice. She shook her head, eyes staring but not seeing. He sighed quietly with the frustration of helplessness. A moment later he asked: "How 'bout some food? I could run out and get..."

"NO!" She interrupted desperate fear creeping into her voice. "No" she repeated more softly this time.

"What can I do?" No frustration, only tenderness, willingness. He slid down the bed, lying next to her, pressing against her back. He didn't know if he should touch her yet, didn't know if he _could_ touch her without causing her to flinch. He tried, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder "What can I do?" he asked again.

_Let me crawl inside you._ She shook her head again, burring her face deeper into the pillow, and reached up, taking his hand in hers. She pulled him closer, bringing their clasped hands tightly to her chest, his arm draped over her waist. Sometime later, she fell into a fitful sleep. Nick stayed awake all night, watching her.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Sunday / Monday **

She woke up with a headache as bad as a hangover and a vague sensation that something was wrong. Nicks side of the bed was empty but still faintly warm, he hadn't been up long. She brought her hands up to her face to try and rub away some of the tightness behind her eyes, the muscles in her arms and back cried out with the sudden movement. Then she remembered. It all came back in one horrible flash of memory, and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep and forget again. _If you do that, you'll never get up again _Sara's voice whispered in her head. With a groan, Rai swung her feet onto the floor, and slowly, feeling every ache, pulled herself to her feet. At the bedroom door, she heard Nick moving in the kitchen, and could smell bacon and brewing coffee. Her stomach rumbled fiercely and she realized she hadn't eaten since lunch the day before.

His back was to her when she walked in and he was poking at the bacon with a fork. She watched him, his head dropping a little, and she wondered if he'd slept at all. Probably not, she told herself. "Hey" she said softly, to not startle him.

He turned and smiled at her. The skin under his eyes was almost as dark as the day's growth of beard on his cheeks. He hadn't slept she decided. "Hey" his tone just as soft as hers. She moved next to him in the smallish kitchen, and looked into the frying pan. "Hungry?" he asked at the same time her stomach growled loudly.

She snorted, a little embarrassed, and rubbed her stomach as if to quiet it "Guess so." She smiled slightly and Nick exhaled, relieved to see the smile, even one as small as that.

He cupped her check, rubbing his thumb lightly across the bruise. "It looks a little better."

She reached up and took his hand in hers, moving it away. "That's not true, but it's sweet of you to try." She took a deep breath and, dropping his hand moved to the coffee pot. She fixed them both a cup while he took the bacon out of the pan and cracked open the eggs to go with it.

Twenty minutes later, the food gone, they sat quietly at the small square dining table just off the kitchen. Rai stared at her empty plate; surprised she'd inhaled her breakfast as quickly as she had. She glanced up at him. "I hate to sound cliché, but we need to talk."

He nodded, "Yeah, ok." She told him the story, just as she'd told Catherine the night before. More than once, he felt himself on the verge of breaking in, asking her a question or offering a comment, but restrained himself, remembering that he wasn't at work.

When she was done, he took a few moments, breathing deeply, trying to keep his breakfast and temper down. His head was reeling with the images she'd just presented him.

"Why was the cop here last night?" She broke through his thoughts. Nick cleared his throat, unsure of how much to tell her. She read the hesitation on his face. "Please just tell me."

"We think that maybe the perp who attacked you was the Vegas Strangler" he used the name the news had dubbed the killer. "If you hadn't kicked him in the balls..."

"I'd be dead." He nodded slowly. "And you think he might come back, to...finish." Again, he nodded. She inhaled deeply, absorbing the information.

After a moment he asked: "You think you can sketch his face?"

"Yeah. If I can get my things. Do you think they'll let me in my apartment? I'm gonna need some clothes too." She tugged at his sweatshirt she was wearing.

"I'll call Griss."

Rai went to the bathroom while he was on the phone. Splashing her face with cool water, she leaned into the mirror, closely inspecting at the marks that had been left on her. Straightening up, she stared at herself, hoping that telling Nick had been the hardest part of this, aside from the actual rape, because it was over. Inhaling deeply, she tried to steel herself for the days ahead.

Nick knocked on the door. "Yeah" she called. In the hall, Nick cautiously tried the knob; another sigh of relief escaped him when it turned, she hadn't locked him out this time. He leaned in, holding the door to his chest.

"Griss say's we can't go in, but he did allow Sara to gather some clothes and things, they're at the lab. And Sara took Monte home with her."

Rai covered her mouth with her fingers. "Oh God. I'd forgotten all about him. He made me put him in the kitchen, he'd said it was for Monte's own protection."

Nick nodded "That's where they found him, in the kitchen."

* * *

They were climbing out of the Tahoe at the lab forty-five minutes later, Rai wearing the same sweats, but had changed into one of Nick's tee shirts for the Vegas heat. Nick kept a protective hand on the small of her back as he steered her down the halls to Grissom's office.

Grissom sat behind his desk, facing the doorway. Sara and Warrick sat in the two chairs facing Grissom's desk, their backs to the door. Sara was speaking when Rai and Nick appeared in the open doorway, and, catching Grissom's change in expression and eye direction, she stopped in mid sentence and turned quickly in her chair. Seeing her childhood friend, Sara practically jumped from her chair and gathered Rai in a tight hug. For the first time in her memory, Rai was the first one to let go. Sara pulled back a little, but kept her hands on Rai's elbows. She looked at Rai, her brown eyes darting back and forth, and after a moment, her unasked questions momentairy satisfied she said: "I've got some of your things out in the truck, you wanna go get them? Maybe change out of these clothes." Sara lightly teased with a yank at the tee shirt sleeve.

"Yeah, these sweat pants are starting to feel a little grungy." Rai glanced at Nick as she passed him on her way back down the hall.

He nodded faintly. "I'll be out in a minute, I want to talk to Gris." He said softly.

"How's Monte?" Rai asked as she and Sara made their way down the hall.

Nick watched them from his spot in the doorway, and when they turned the corner he brought his attention back to the office. Warrick lifted his chin in greeting as Nick flopped tiredly down into the chair Sara had just vacated. "Hey man."

Nick looked at Warrick for the first time since he'd arrived. Weariness was etched into his eyes. "When's the last time you slept man?" Nick asked.

Warrick shrugged. "What day is it?"

Grissom watched his two younger colleges "Nicky..." he began slowly.

"Gris, I want to take vacation." Gil looked at him stunned. He'd been about to tell Nick the same thing, and had expected an argument. Nick kept going, not noticing Grissom's expression, and stating his case. "I need to stay with her, in case this guy comes to finish the job. And," he emphasized the word, coming to his strongest reasoning "the farther I stay away from the evidence, the better." He finished, and finally took in Grissom's expression. "You were going to say the same thing, weren't you?"

Grissom nodded "Yeah" he said simply. "Sara's going to take the other cases, her involvement will have to be minimal. Dayshift will have to help out, put in some overtime. You've got a weeks time comin' anyway, take it. If we haven't caught this hump by then..." he paused searching for the right words. "We'll handle it then. But," he used a pencil to point down the hall Rai and Sara had just walked down, "we need to talk to her."

"Yeah" Nick answered resigned. "I know."

* * *

Walking into the brightness of the parking lot from the comparative dimness of the lab, Nick squinted and slid his sunglass on. His found the two women standing next to the open back door of his Tahoe, a suitcase and cardboard box loaded in the back seat. Rai's arms crossed against her chest each hand holding the other elbow, in a protective posture; Sara's hands flew animatedly in the air, punctuating her words. From just outside the lab door, he could hear Sara's voice, but not her words, but as he crossed the parking lot, about halfway to them, he heard Sara say "That's not gonna happen" just before Rai noticed him out of the corner of her eye and put a hand on Sara's arm, putting a stop to the conversation.

"Hey" Rai greeted him as he joined them next to the truck.

"Hey." He answered, ignoring the conversation he felt left out of. He put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her on the temple.

"Can we stop at Sara's and pick up Monte on the way home?"

He nodded, "Of course. But Gris wants to talk to you first."

Rai sighed. "Yeah." Before shutting the Tahoe door, she reached in and grabbed her sketchpad and pencils that Sara had packed. "Ok" she said to them.

Inside, Nick's protective hand left the small of Rai's back as he turned down a second hallway, headed to the break room to get them some water. Sara led Rai the rest of the way to where the other CSI's had gathered in the interrogation room, the only room big enough to hold all of them and offer privacy.

Catherine and Grissom sat on one side of the oblong table. Warrick leaned up against the mirror, Jim Brass stood unobtrusively in a corner, two feet away from him. Rai sat down in one of the two empty chairs at the table, opposite Catherine, and Sara walked over to join Warrick against the mirror.

"Rai, have you met Capitan Brass?" Gil gestured to the corner where Brass stood.

"We sorta met last night." Brass answered the question.

Rai's eyes tightened for a moment before she realized what he was talking about and they flew open wide. "I'm sorry about that. Could you please tell that officer for me?"

"What happened?" Catherine sat up in her chair.

"What officer?" Warrick asked at the same time.

"Guys." Sara got their attention. "We'll talk about it later." Rai had told Sara the story in the parking lot, her embarrassment evident, she'd told it almost as a confession.

Nick walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. Walking to the table he handed Rai the bottle of water and sat down in the empty chair next to her. Looking up, he found his friends looking at him and all of a sudden, he realized he was on the other side of the table from where he usually was.

Catherine cleared her throat, the noise like a starting gun. "Rai, first I want to thank you for letting them take the swab last night..."

Nick broke in. "What? What swab?" He looked from Catherine to Rai.

Rai glanced at her hands, folded on the table on top of the sketchbook she'd put down. She hadn't told him that part, she didn't know why exactly, but now she was wishing she had.

Catherine surmised the situation quickly and jumped in to save Rai. She held up a hand to silence Nick. "There was just a misunderstanding at the hospital." Quickly, she changed the subject. "Rai, I know how hard this is, but we need you to go over it again."

Rai's head bobbed for a moment, then her eyes unfocused as she remembered. She told them the story. Unlike Nick, they broke in, asking the very questions Nick had held back that morning.

"How tall was he?" Sara asked.

Rai looked to Nick, considering. "An inch or two taller than Nick?"

"So about six feet." Grissom commented. "White or black?"

"White."

"What color was his uniform?" Brass asked from the corner.

"Camel pants, dark olive shirt." Brass smiled at the description, chalking it up to her artist's eye.

"Anything else you can remember about him physically? Muscular like he works out? Or skinny maybe?" This from Warrick.

Rai shrugged. "He was stronger than me. His hands were," she swallowed away a lump in her throat "soft."

Catherine and Grissom exchanged glances; neither knew what to make of that, but it did remind Catherine of a question. "Was he wearing gloves?"

Rai thought about it, her eyes glassed over. "Not when he walked in. As he started down the hall, toward the bedroom, I saw him pulling something on, I guess I just made the assumption it was gloves like the one's ya'll wear." She took a sip of water and held it in her mouth for a moment, unable to swallow.

"Did he touch anything before he put on the gloves?" Warrick asked, leaning in a little, excited by the possibility of fingerprints. Rai dashed his hopes when she shook her head.

"Could you smell anything on him?" Grissom asked.

Rai tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Cologne, or aftershave. I don't know what brand." She put her hand to her mouth and quickly stood up, the chair legs screeching against the floor. "Excuse me" she said though her fingers and she rushed to the door. Sara was at her side in an instant, leading her to the bathroom.

Nick watched them leave, his jaw working.

"Had to be done Nicky." Catherine tried to calm him. He didn't answer.

Grissom reached across the table touching sketchbook. "May I?" He asked Nick.

Nick gave a short nod of consent.

As he slid the book over in front of him, Catherine leaned forward into the table; Warrick made his way over and stood behind her. Brass came over and joined the group, standing at the short end of the table between Catherine and Rai's empty chair.

Grissom opened the book and began to flip the pages. The sketches, both in regular and colored pencils, were of diverse subjects. Two pages contained several different pictures of the same dog from varying points of view. "Monte?" Grissom asked glancing up to Nick.

"Yeah."

Other pages contained drawings of fairies and storybook characters. Dragonflies and mythological creatures dominated several pages. Grissom turned the page. Catherine gasped, Warrick let out a "Whoa". Staring up at them from the page of the sketchbook was an almost photograph like drawing of Sara. Rai had even managed to capture the energy of Sara's personality in the eyes.

Grissom pulled off his glasses and glanced at Nick. "Could she draw her own composite sketch?"

Nick nodded. "She wants to."

Just then, Sara appeared in the doorway, Rai right behind her, a paper towel still in her hand. Both women's eyes were rimmed in red; Rai's were still glistening. As she passed the table headed back to her spot at the mirror, Sara glanced down to see what had captured their attention, and smiled when she recognized the drawing.

Sitting back down, Rai tried to smile but failed. "Sorry."

Gil let her settle in. "Rai," he pointed at the sketch of Sara. "Do you think you can draw your attacker?" She glanced briefly at Nick then at Grissom, and nodded. Gil handed her the book. "Please."

Rai took the book and set it down in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she turned to a clean page, picked up one of the pencils and began. They watched her, all of them, glancing from her face to her hand and then the picture that was being revealed. Sara couldn't help but smile as she watched them watching Rai. She'd always been impressed with and proud of her friend's talent. Twice Rai's hand stopped moving, the pencil hovering just above the paper. Both times she swallowed hard and began again.

After about twenty minutes Rai moved her hand and the pencil away from the paper and studied the face she'd created. She ripped the paper out of the book along the perforated edges and handed it to Grissom. Sara came over to stand next to Warrick behind Gil, and Brass placed his palms on the table, leaning in. Staring back up at them, in an almost photograph like portrait was the face of the Vegas Strangler.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Before leaving, they took a DNA swab from Rai, and fingerprinted her, so they would be able to rule out any trace they'd found in her apartment that had come from her. Since he'd been at the apartment, Nick's prints and DNA would also have to be ruled out, but he'd been printed when he was hired, and his DNA was already on file from the Kristi Hopkins murder that he'd come with a breath of being arrested for.

They stopped at Sara's apartment and picked up Monte, who would not stay in the back seat of the Tahoe. He'd climbed over the seat twice, struggling with his broken leg into Rai's lap, when she finally gave up and let him stay up there. The dog was so happy to see her; his tail didn't stop wagging as he looked out the side window, then back to Rai, to lick her face, giving her sloppy wet dog kisses. Rai was so happy to see Monte, and relieved that he was aright, she didn't notice that Nick hadn't said two words since leaving the lab.

In his driveway, he put the truck in park and shut off the engine. Rai opened her door and helped Monte to the ground. The dog took off as quickly as his bum leg would allow, headed to Nick's postage stamp sized front lawn. She watched Monte scamper and smell for a moment before she realized Nick hadn't opened his door. Hadn't even moved since he cut the engine. She looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead, hands still on the wheel, his arms stretched out, as if he was trying to push himself away.

"What?"

"You gonna tell me about the swab? Or what's 'not gonna happen'?" He quoted Sara's words in the lab parking lot. "I can't help you though this unless you tell me." He turned his head toward her, and Rai saw something in his eyes she hadn't seen before. Anger.

She swallowed hard. "I didn't want them to take the vaginal swab."

"Why?"

"Because" she looked away, her eyes finding Monte, rolling on his back in the grass. "Because, all I kept thinking about was that girl you told me about, that Kristi, and I thought..."

"You thought if they took the swab, I'd be a suspect for your rape." He closed his eyes, again cursing the decision he'd made to walk into Kristi's house. "That's why you asked for Catherine, because she got me cleared once..."

She nodded and turned back to meet his eyes. Most of the anger had gone. "Yeah, but she told me that if I wasn't accusing you, it'd be alright."

"Ok." He loosened his grip on the steering wheel, letting his hands fall into his lap. "What were you and Sara talking about?"

Rai chewed her bottom lip; she didn't want to tell him. "I was worried about you." She said finally, and looked at her feet, unable to meet his gaze.

"Me? But Catherine told you..." she interrupted him.

"Not that." Her mouth moved, forming words with out voice, as she tired to find the words. "I thought...you might...leave me." She looked at him, he was speechless. "Aren't I 'damaged goods' now? I thought that maybe you wouldn't want me anymore, after...this. That's what Sara meant when she said 'that's not going to happen'."

The truck was silent. After a moment he asked quietly: "Do you still think that?" She shook her head.

He tried to say 'ok' and be done with it, but he couldn't. He was hurt that she would think that. He fought with himself, he had no idea what she was going through. Instead he only climbed out of the truck and walked around it, opening the back door behind Rai to grab her suitcase and the box of her other things. Rai sat in the truck, motionless, watching him in the side rear view mirror. After he shut the Tahoe's door, he looked to her. "Come on inside."

The living room was cool compared to the heat of the Tahoe baking in the Nevada sun. Nick took the baggage to the bedroom while Rai got Monte settled, pouring him a bowl of water. Monte's fun in the grass had been thirsty work, and he drank good and long from the bowl. When he was done, he investigated Nicks living room, smelling everything his nose could reach. It was about twenty minutes before Rai realized Nick hadn't come back from dropping off her suitcase, and she walked toward the bedroom to find him, Monte right behind her, smelling and wagging his tail.

She found him in the bedroom, laid out on his back, in the middle of the bed, one arm flung over his eyes. Her head tilted and she licked her lips. She hadn't wanted to tell him, and now she was sorry she hadn't made up a lie. Taking the few steps to the bed, she gingerly crawled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered. His hand came down and curled around her waist, pulling her tighter to him.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Week Five**

Monday / Tuesday 

A side conference room had been turned into a command center, with blown up crime scene photographs taped on the wall, making grizzly wallpaper. Diagrams of each woman's home were tacked up near the corresponding photo, at various points in each diagram a push pin held a piece of string that led to yet another photograph, a close up of what ever object the push pin represented.

Dayshift had found semen drops on the toilet seat of the first murder, victim Bethany James; the DNA matched the drops Greg had found in Rai's bathroom, one on the toilet seat, one on the floor to the left of the toilet, and Greg had done his due diligence and ruled Nick out first thing. Gil surmised that the first of the dayshift scenes had –he hoped- also been the killers first, and through nervousness or lack of preparedness, the rapist/murder had allowed some of his DNA to spill out when he'd flushed the condom. Rai's escape had sent the perp into panic mode, Gil thought, and he'd left behind some DNA in his rush to flush. So, they had DNA linking two crime scenes, all they needed now was a suspect to compare it against.

As for fingerprints, they hadn't found any that didn't belong at the scenes.

Gil Grissom lifted his head up off the tabletop and looked around the room bleary eyed. Warrick sat at the opposite end of the oblong shiny black table reading through the details of one of the victim's lives that Brass had been able to compile. Warrick met his eyes briefly and muttered "Good morning" to him before turning his attention back to the report. Gil glanced to the window, Warrick was right; morning sunlight was streaming though the closed blinds.

Shaking out the cobwebsprecious little sleep had left behind; Gil resumed his inspection of the room. Catherine sat on the couch against the wall, her back against an armrest, knees bent, bare feet digging into the middle cushion, an open file spread out over her thighs. Her head rested on the black cushion of the back of the couch. It looked to Gil that she'd fallen asleep while reading. He glanced at his watch and quickly calculated hours in his head, not very surprised when he figured out that Catherine had been on the job for over twenty-four hours.

"How long?" Grissom asked Warrick quietly so as to not wake Catherine.

Warrick didn't look up from the report in his hands. "Couple hours. You both fell asleep around the same time." Warrick almost made a comment about Gil and Catherine sleeping together, but thought better of it. "Coffee's fresh" he said instead, gesturing to the maker sitting on a side cabinet.

That sounded like an excellent idea to Grissom and he stood and stretched, popping his back and neck.

As he poured the hot liquid in an oversized mug, the vapors filled his nose, and quiet suddenly feeling much more awake, Gil wondered if anyone had studied the amount of caffeine in just the aroma of coffee.

"Anything new?" He asked, his back to Warrick as he stared at an almost life sized photo of Rai's empty bed, again thanking God that she'd been able to flee. His mind hit on past cases that had hit to close to home; Warrick's childhood mentor, the murder victim that had borne an eerie resemblance to Sara. Catherine's ex-husband had been a prominent player in not one, but two cases, the seond being his own death. And of course, Nick's almost arrest a few years back. They had all been touched by a case on a personal level, but if Rai had been killed, that would have hit two of his CSI's, his two most sensitive one's at that, and he wondered if either of them would have been able to struggle out of their own guilt at not catching the perp earlier, to come back to work.

Rai's rape had brought out sides of both Nick and Sara that, as their boss, Gil hadn't seen. Sara's mothering instincts were apparent during the interview, as was her love for her childhood friend. And where Gil had seen Nick with women before, the tenderness the younger criminalist had displayed was evidence of a deeper connection that Gil hadn't realized two people could make in just a few weeks. He envied them.

Warrick's voice brought him out of his trance, and he realized Warrick had been speaking while his mind had drifted. He was more tired than he'd realized.

"I'm sorry Warrick, my mind..." he rubbed his forehead, not knowing know how to finish that sentence. "What did you say?"

A trace of a grin appeared on Warrick's lips. "I said, from the info Brass has put together so far, there's nothing these women have in common." He tossed the brown file folder onto the table with some disgust.

"And here's the last of it." Brass walked into the room and handed Warrick a new stack of folders.

Warrick suppressed a groan. "Thanks." He said with no humor or appreciation in his voice.

Brass looked to Gil, still standing by the coffee pot. "And unless you can come up with another category of these women's lives for me to research, I'm going to grab some shut eye." Without waiting for a reply, Brass left the room and headed to his own office and waiting couch in another part of the building.

"What are they?" Catherine asked waking up and swinging her feet to the floor. She put her elbows on her knees and rubbed her face, her strawberry blonde hair hanging down.

Warrick opened the top file. "Financials." He said and opened the second and then third folders laying them out next to each other on top of the file he'd just discarded.

Gil walked over and stood behind Warrick's back for a moment before moving over and taking a chair. With a sigh, Catherine heaved herself up off the couch and joined them, taking the empty chair to Warrick's right, across from Gil. They each took a folder, the fourth laid open in between them.

"Credit cards." Gil said, giving them a place to start.

Warrick read from the Bethany James file. "Visa, MasterCard, Sears."

Catherine had taken the file for the second dayshift victim, Terri Jo Weaver. "Saks and Discover."

Gil read though the report in his hands, then moved the file laying open on the table so he could read it. He shook his head. "Any stocks?"

"Hey" Sara said from the open doorway. She's propped herself up against the frame, her arms folded across her chest, purposely not entering the room. "I just stopped by to see if you needed anything."

None of the three CSI's at the table answered her; they knew it was just an excuse. "Terri Jo didn't own any stocks." Catherine answered Gil's question.

"Neither did Bethany." Warrick rubbed his eyes. "She did have a savings account at Nevada Trust" he added for no real reason.

"Hang on." Catherine said, a new wave of energy pulsing through her veins. She ran a finger down the report. "Terri Jo had a checking and a savings at Nevada Trust."

"That's where Rai banks." Sara said.

Warrick and Catherine looked at each other, then to Gil. He was already reading the report, he nodded. "Jan Taylor was denied a loan four weeks ago, and" he grabbed the last folder "The Candlestein mortgage is held by Nevada Trust."

"He would have access to their home address."

Adrenaline rushed through them all, and they looked at each other, momentarily stunned. "Wake Brass up, get a warrant." A sudden thought stopped him. "What day is it? Are the banks even open?"


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Rai stood in the open doorway, watching Monte cavort in the front yard, holding a cup of coffee in both hands. She'd woken up about twenty minutes before, and had quietly climbed out of bed, leaving Nick to sleep. She sipped her coffee, smiling as she watched Monte chase after a bird.

"Morning Beautiful." Nick slipped up behind her, wrapping his left arm around her, it lay across her upper chest, his hand holding her right shoulder.

She smiled, glad he was touching her again, glad that she didn't shrink away from his touch. "Did his barking wake you?" She glanced behind her, meeting his eyes, all the anger from the afternoon before had disappeared.

Nick shook his head to answer her question and with his free hand, took the coffee cup out of her hands. He sipped twice before handing it back to her. "That poor bird." He said, watching Monte still chasing the same bird, which had, apparently forgotten he could fly.

* * *

From Brass's research and a few more additional phone calls, they pinpointed the specific branch of Nevada Trust that all the women had done business in. Sara had spoken up for Rai telling them that she waited in the parking lot of that particular branch office the week before the rape while Rai had run in to make a deposit.

The maroon Tahoe pulled into that parking lot now, Warrick driving, Catherine in the front and Greg in the back seat. Brass's Taurus was right behind them, Grissom in the passengers seat.

After Brass pulled in next to the Tahoe, Gil climbed out of the car, and said to his team: "Wait here, Brass and I'll go in first. All of us may spook the perp."

Captain Brass waited by the car's trunk, slipping his badge into his jacket pocket, so it hung there for the entire world to see.

The two men entered the bank simultaneously, the double doors swinging wide. They stepped inside and looked around acclimating themselves. Gil handed Brass a copy of the sketch Rai had done of her attacker. Narrowing his eyes, Brass looked around the quiet bank, as if the murderer would walk out into his line of sight. Which, a moment later, he did.

A man, Brass guessed he was in his early thirties, wearing crisp gray suit pants, a white long sleeved button down shirt and black shoes, and who bore an uncanny resemblance to the man Rai had drawn, came out of a side office, crossed the room and walked back behind the tellers desk and sat at one of the open windows.

Brass kept his face neutral. "Gil." He said simply. Grissom looked at him, then understood and followed Brass's line of sight. Brass slid his eyes away from the possible suspect and found the bank security guard. "Where's the bank manger?" He asked, fingering the shield hanging from his pocket.

The guard pointed and Brass followed the arm. "Stay here." He told Grissom. Grissom did, and moved to the self-service desk in the middle of the lobby. Picking up one of the chained pens and a deposit slip he began to doodle, trying to make himself look like just another customer while at the same time keeping his eyes on the man at the tellers desk.

Brass came back out a few moments later. "Manager is pulling the records, but he's pretty sure our guy" he pointed to the suspect with his chin "who's name is Conrad Dilbert, by the way, was here on the days the women came in. Conrad hasn't taken a sick day in several months." He paused a moment while they looked at Dilbert, who had begun to feel their eyes on him, looking up and giving them a welcoming, bank instructed, smile. "We've got enough to bring him in for questioning."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Conrad Dilbert sat in the interrogation room and rolled up his long sleeves. The bank manager had come through in record time, providing them with records that showed that not only had Dilbert been at work on the days each of the women were in the bank, but they had all been waited on by none other than Dilbert himself. While Warrick and Catherine ran to the courthouse to acquire a warrant for DNA, Brass, Gil and Greg watched their suspect from the observation room on the other side of the two-way mirror.

The door flew open and Catherine held out the warrant, out of breath from running through the lab halls. "Warrick dropped me off, he's on his way to Dilbert's apartment." She told them.

Grissom took the warrant from her and looked to Greg. "Let's go."

"Mr. Dilbert, we have a warrant compelling your DNA." Grissom handed the bank teller the paper and allowed him a moment to read it. "Would you open your mouth please." Conrad did, and Greg flipped open the cap of the tube in his hands, taking out the long stick with a piece of cotton on one end. Greg ran the cotton along the inside of Conrad's cheek, his saliva and skin cells attaching themselves to the cotton. Greg carefully slipped the swab back into the plastic tube and clicked the top back on with his thumb.

"I'll get this processed." He told Grissom and left the room, Gil was right behind him, leaving Conrad alone again.

Stepping back in the observation room, Gil looked to Brass. "How 'bout a line up?" Brass asked him.

Gil nodded. "We need Rai down here. But not Nick." Brass nodded in agreement.

They were on the couch, watching a biography on Winston Churchill, Rai's legs curled up on the sofa; Nick's were stretched out, feet resting on the coffee table, when his phone rang. Bringing himself out of his drowsiness, Nick pulled his feet off the table and reached for the cordless handset. "Hello?"

"Mr. Stokes?" A female voice came from the earpiece. "This is Jennifer McConnell in the DA's office, the prosecutor on your B&E has some free time and wants to go over the case with you before trial. Are you free to meet with him right now?"

"Ah," Nick glanced over his should to Rai still dozing on the couch. "Yeah. I can be there in about thirty minutes."

"Glad to hear it. We'll expect you then." She hung up.

Rai opened her eyes and looked at him questioning.

"DA's office wants to go over a case before trial." He stood up and pushed his wallet into his back pocket, out of habit, he clicked his holster and weapon onto his belt. "Wanna go with?"

She shook her head. "I'd rather not" she touched the bruising on her throat, "go in public until this goes away."

Sara sat in the black Tahoe four houses down from Nicks place and watched as came out the front door, gave Rai a quick kiss goodbye on her cheek and climbed into his truck. She swallowed away some of the guilt creeping up her throat as she saw Nick's brake lights come on briefly before he turned the far corner and drove out of sight. A moment later she was pulling in to the driveway, parking her Tahoe where Nicks had just been.

Rai looked out the peephole to see Sara standing on the porch. "Hey!" she said, opening the door wide for her friend.

"Hey." Sara answered stepping in and gave her friend a hug. "How're you feeling?"

Rai nodded. "Better." She saw something in Sara's eyes. "What's up?"

"We, ah, we have a suspect in custody." Rai stared at her, stunned. "We need you to look at a line up."

It took a moment for Rai to absorb the information. "Ok" she finally said.

Nick crossed his leg, his hand resting on his ankle, his foot bobbing up and down with his impatience. The secretary looked up from behind her desk, and with an understanding smile said, "I'm sorry for the wait, he ended up getting stuck on the phone. It shouldn't be long."

Nick nodded in acknowledgement and glanced at his watch.

Inside the private office, the attorney was on the phone. "Now, what exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Just keep Stokes there as long as possible." Brass's voice came from the other end of the phone. "I'll owe you." He added.

The attorney shrugged as if Brass could see. "Ok."

Back at PD, Brass click his phone shut and walked into Grissom's office from the hall where he'd made the call. Rai sat in the chair facing the desk, Sara next to her in the other chair. Signaling Gil with his eyes, Brass stayed in the doorway. "Ok," he breathed. Rai turned around in her seat. Brass looked at her. "Ready?"


	19. Chapter Ninteen

The room they entered was similar to the interrogation observation room, only on the other side of the glass; the far wall was painted with height marking lines. Rai stepped into the room; her arms crossed tightly over her chest and gave an attractive black woman in a dark business suite standing in the corner a brief glance, Sara had told her that a public defender would be in the room as well. She turned her back to the mirror to face Brass.

"Ok, here's how this works" Brass said gently "in a moment, an officer is going to escort some men into the room. We need you to look and see if you see your attacker among those men. They can't see you, so you don't need to worry about that."

Rai gave him a short nod and moved her eyes to the floor.

Brass flipped a switch on a speaker box, his voice blaring into the next room. "Ok, bring 'em in."

One by one, five men stepped into the brightly lit room, Conrad Dilbert in the middle of the line. After the line of men settled in against the wall and stood still, Brass turned to Rai. "When you're ready."

Rai swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She turned, still looking at the floor. With another breath, she looked up and through the glass. Her eyes ran down the line of faces, quickly setting on Conrad's. "Number three." She said quietly.

"She didn't even look at them..." the woman in the suite began to protest.

Rai's voice burst out, all the anger and betrayal she'd held in for the past two days filled her voice. "Bitch, are you deaf? I said number three." Tears filled her eyes but didn't spill over.

The defense attorney was taken aback, and looked at Rai in shock.

Rai turned her attention back to Brass. "Can I go now, please?"

A small smile played over Brass's face, and he did a bad job of trying to hide it. He nodded. Sara was at immediately Rai's side; her arm draped around her shoulder and walked her to the door. At the threshold, Rai stopped and turned back the attorney. "_If_ number three is your client; don't be alone with him." With that, she and Sara left the room.

Brass took in the lawyer's stunned and somewhat frightened expression, enjoying it for a moment before he looked to Gil and raised his eyebrows.

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Nick had finally made it into the assistant DA's private office, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that the lawyer wasn't paying much attention. "We printed the suspect, made a match to the prints left on the safe, and placed the suspect under arrest." He finished explaining.

The attorney glanced at his watch. "Um, ok" he glanced at the file open on his desk, trying to bide more time.

Nick let out a frustrated sigh and settled further into the chair.

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"Griss." Warrick's voice came through the cell phone, the noise of traffic in the background. "I found a cops uniform in Conrad's apartment."

"Good work. Get back as soon as you can."

"Almost there." Warrick said and clicked off.

Catherine walked in to Gil's office and handed him the report she'd just picked up from Greg. "DNA's a match for both the samples from the Bethany James scene and Rai's." she told him excitedly. "And the hairs found at the other scenes."

Gil stood up from behind the desk and took the report from her. "Warrick found a cop's uniform in Conrad's apartment."

Catherine raised an eyebrow and smiled. "We got him."

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In a side waiting room, Rai looked through the glass wall and watched as Warrick rushed down the hall, a brown paper bag in his hands.

Rai wiped her nose with a bunched up tissue and slid her eyes over to Sara. "Do you think I'll ever stop crying about this?"

Sara pushed her friends hair back off her face and gently nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Rai rolled her eyes heavenward, as if asking for help. "Hey, I've ah, I've called in Victims Services." Sara said. "Their counselors have been through this, they can help you better than I or Nick can."

Rai thought about it for a moment. "Ok."

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With a flourish, Brass opened the door to the integration room, Conrad and his attorney sat with their heads together, whispering.

"This is the favorite part of my job." He told them when they looked up "Conrad Dilbert, you are under arrest for the rape and murders of Bethany James, Terri Jo Weaver, Jan Taylor and Eleanor Candlestein, and the rape and attempted murder of Rainbow Cross. Stand up and put your hand behind your back."

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The DA hung up the phone, the seventh call he'd taken since Nick walked in to his office. "Would you excuse me for a moment please." Without waiting for an answer, he left the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Nick watched him leave and looked skyward, wishing he hadn't answered his phone when they'd called him to come in.

The secretary he'd spoken with earlier came into the office. "Everything going ok?" She asked.

"Yeah, but I wish I had my notes with me."

"Well," she said, not knowing about Brass's little rouse "he just walked into a meeting that might take a while. I'm sure there's enough time for you to go get them and be back before he's done."

"That's a good idea." Nick's face brightened with the idea of getting out of there, if even for a few minutes. "I'll run over to CSI and be back in just a bit."


	20. Chapter Twenty

Sara left to go get Rai a glass of water from the break room. Still waiting for a Victims Services counselor, Rai sat hunched over in her seat, cradling herself.

Nick walked down the hall, headed for the locker room, where he'd left his notes. "Hey" he greeted one of the lab techs as he passed. Turning the corner, he saw Rai sitting in the waiting room, and it took him a moment to recognize her. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as heput it all together. Rai felt his eyes on her and looked up. Their eyes met through the glass, hers were red rimmed and still glistening with tears. Sudden comprehension filled his eyes and he took off down the hall, headed for the holding cells. Rai rushed to the door, holding on to the frame "Nick!" She called out, trying to stop him. When he didn't stop, she looked around her, hoping that Sara would appear from around the corner. With no one there to help, Rai took off running after him.

There was no officer at the guard desk, and Nick took that as a sign that Fate wanted him to be alone with the bastard. There was only one holding cell, and Conrad was alone. Even if he hadn't been, Nick would have recognized him as quickly as Rai had in the lineup, Rai's sketch had been so dead on.

Slowly he approached the bars. Conrad looked up and immediately recognized Nick, he had been waiting outside the hospital the night he'd raped Rai, and had followed them to the townhouse, heading home only after the uniformed officer had arrived. Conrad's eyes grew wide with fear and he searched the outside room for someone to holler at for help.

Inches from the cell, Nick grabbed at one of the bars, his knuckles white, his other hand rested on the but of his service revolver, nestled on his hip.

Rai arrived in the doorway, out of breath. She held on to the jam, pressing herself up against it, hiding from Conrad's eyes.

"You! Tell him not to!" Conrad yelled at Rai.

Nick's eyes left the prisoner just long enough to see who was at the door. He turned back to Conrad. "Go away Rai" he demanded.

"Nick." She whispered, but didn't continue, not knowing what it was she wanted to say. Part of her wanted Conrad dead, even wanted it to be Nick that killed him, but in an instant her mind showed her what would happen if he did, looking again, it was Nick inside the cell.

She swallowed hard, shaking away the image.

Nick's lips were pulled back over his teeth in an awful smile. "Go away Rai" he repeated.

"No. Don't do this." She answered. When he didn't move, she added "Please."

Something in her voice broke through his rage. He turned to look at her, and could see in her face all that she had just imagined, her life without him. _Please_ she mouthed, and his hand came off the gun.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Week Six**

**Wednesday / Thursday**

Gil Grissom sat at his desk working on long over due paperwork. Brass appeared in the doorway. "We ever ask Conrad why?" 

Grissom looked up, and took off his glasses. After a moments thought, he shook his head. "We didn't want to risk the case by talking to him before the arrest, and his PD wouldn't let us talk to him after. Why?"

"Because he's dead."

Gil stared at him, stunned.

"Got into a fight over in county lock up over some meatloaf." Brass nodded at Gil's raised eyebrows. "Yeah, meatloaf. The other prisoner stabbed him with a shank."

"Well." Grissom said, at a loss for words.

"Yeah," Brass nodded as he turned to leave. "Well."

* * *

Monte lay curled up on the floor near the TV that was showing a sitcom rerun that neither Rai nor Nick was paying attention to. They each sat on the floor cross-legged, a Scrabble board between them. 

"What the hell is that?" Rai asked staring at the eight-letter word Nick had just lain down.

"That, my darlin' is a chemical that brings out..."

"Never mind." She cut him off, and smiled, rolling her eyes. Nick laughed.

As she moved her tiles around, she brought up a subject that'd been on her mind. "I, ah, I'm not sure I can live there again." She said, referring to her apartment.

Nick's head bobbed, and he thought about it. "Well, you could... always live here."

"Yeah?" she asked looking up at him from her tiles.

"Yeah." He smiled and tilted his head toward Monte. "After all, there are three of us."

Fini

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Special thanks to Kristen999 and AH Smith for your reviews, they meant more than you could ever know. Sunset


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